


Two Tickets to Paradise

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions), VelkynKarma



Series: Don't Let's Start [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Clone bonding, Crossover, Gen, Handcuffed Together, Kuron (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Kuron (Voltron)-centric, Kuron is Ryou (Voltron), Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Once again between two fics and not two universes, Vacation, Welcome to Space Disney World, theme park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24030250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: An accident with a piece of technology pulls Ryou into a new dimension - one built to be the ultimate theme park and vacation experience.  Which would be great, except he's not supposed to be there and can't get home.  Not only that, he finds himself attached to a familiar face.Or: Clones' Day Out, Vacation Edition
Series: Don't Let's Start [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/804912
Comments: 55
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this fic to make sense, you'll need to have read through [You Get What You Give](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22190206) for Don't Let's Start, and [Born the Right Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887995) for Parallel by Proxy. So, basically, both series.
> 
> As a refresher from Familiar Faces: 
> 
> Ryou is Ryou from Don't Let's Start  
> Quiet is Ryou from Parallel by Proxy  
> Takashi (Ta-ka-shiiiii) is Shiro from Don't Let's Start  
> Shiro is Shiro from Parallel by Proxy

Ryou hums softly under his breath as he rolls the odd little device over on the table. Soon he’ll have to find a stopping point to his work and head off to dinner. The alternative is that someone else—probably Shiro—will come find him. And that probably means a lecture.

But for now, Ryou has a little time to ponder. Their last mission had been a complete bust. They’d followed a distress signal all the way to a planet which had been long since emptied. Where the inhabitants had gone was a mystery, but they’d left their cities and towns mostly intact. Nature had taken over. Buildings had crumbled, plants had grown through even the tallest of structures, and everything left was worn by weather.

After a downright creepy day of investigating, they’d found no sign of where the inhabitants had gone. So the team had grabbed whatever they could find that seemed useful or that might yield results later. Pidge had some damaged hard drives she was hoping to restore enough to dig into.

And Ryou—

Ryou had found this odd thing.

The device is the shape of a huge egg—Lance compared it to something called ‘faberge’, which Ryou draws a blank on. The sides are covered in an intricate pattern of bright white filigree, while the rest is a metallic, mint green.

Honestly, the reason Ryou had picked it up was it looked like a puzzle, or maybe some kind of toy. There are ridges that make it seem like the whole thing could shift and click into different configurations.

Whatever the thing is, it probably doesn’t hold the secrets of whatever had happened to that planet. It only has the slightest energy signal, like the thing is in stasis. Ryou’s just.... 

Well, he’s curious. And it’s shiny. Everything else had been dirty, but this is still vibrant.

Dragging over his tool kit, Ryou keeps up his aimless, tuneless humming as he considers his options. First, he should try and clean out any debris that might be jamming up the device. Then, if he still can’t figure out how to make it work, he can just pry away the casing.

It’d be a shame, though. Ryou really likes the look of this weird egg. The decoration is intricate and delicate. Clearly, someone had put a lot of effort into it. The pale green color brings back memories. Good ones. 

Good-ish. It had worked out in the end, at least.

Ryou selects the long, thin brush he uses to clean his own arm’s joints. At a touch, it vibrates like an electric toothbrush. Following the plating, Ryou presses along the design. Considering how long the little device had to have been sitting in rubble, any dust or debris is likely jammed in deep.

It’s slow work. The very tip of the rotating brush only barely fits in the grooves. Sand flies out, scattering over the table. Ryou pauses long enough to throw on a pair of goggles, then concentrates again.

Finally, the device shifts in Ryou’s hands. He beams and sets aside his tools, totally forgetting about dinner and lectures.

Instead, he gently holds the very top and bottom of the egg between his fingers. Then he gives an experimental twist in opposite directions.

The pieces move.

They don’t stop.

Ryou watches, eyes wide. He drops the egg and pulls his hands back, but that doesn’t stop the shifting. The device rolls on the table as the plates move and click into new configurations. The complex pattern changes, re-assembles, twisting into new versions of itself.

Then it stops.

Ryou holds his breath. He grabs for his toolkit, fingers wrapping around the handle of his hammer. Only now does he wonder if the delicate device could be something more sinister—like a well disguised bomb.

The egg gives a loud, mechanical click. 

Then—

Music.  _ Fanfare. _

_ “Duo vacation ticket redeemed,” _ a tinny voice tells him. It sounds very happy about it.  _ “Beginning transport sequence. For your safety, make sure you are physically connected to your partner.” _

What?

Oh shit.

Ryou steps away and swings down the hammer, just as the egg’s design shines with a bright, white light.

The hammer never makes contact.

Instead Ryou is tugged, like the egg suddenly became open space. He goes tumbling, head over feet. He can see nothing but the light, feel nothing but disorientation and dizziness. The world around him is glowing white,  _ empty. _

He’s alone. Without even his armor, so no jetpack to orient himself. Ryou swings at nothing. One hand still curls around the hammer, the other grasping at pure light.

Ryou closes his eyes tightly, nauseated by the feeling of movement and lack of visual agreement. This has been so stupid, and now he has no way of contacting the team, no way of helping himself. All he can do is hope he’s the only one caught up in his mistake.

For one desperate moment, Ryou thinks of Shiro, and how just seconds ago he’d been dreading seeing him if it meant a lecture. 

Heart clenching, Ryou wishes, selfishly, that his brother was there too. At least together they’re good at getting out of terrible, baffling situations.

The fanfare plays again, sudden and absurdly cheerful.

_ “Match found.” _

What-?

Something crashes against Ryou’s side.

Then, as abruptly as he’d been yanked off his feet, Ryou is standing again. His knees bend, bracing automatically as he expects his momentum to continue. But he’s perfectly balanced. It’s like he’d been dropped an inch or two, rather than just been spinning through a white void.

Ryou clutches at whatever had just hit him. He finds an arm—armor-clad and familiarly sized, and grabs the wrist with mixed dread and relief.

Finally opening his eyes, Ryou looks to his left. “Okay, I can explain, Sh—”

He stops.

The armor next to him isn’t the familiar black. It’s mint green.

An identical face looks back, clearly stunned and disoriented. But Ryou knows under the pale green helmet, there’s black hair going prematurely grey at the temples.

Uh oh.

Finally, Ryou looks around, heart pounding. They aren’t in the Castle of Lions anymore. They also aren’t in a dark, bioluminescent world. Instead, they’re in the fanciest lobby that Ryou has ever seen. The floor is covered in a lush, white carpet, and the walls are the exact same mint-green and white design as the egg.

Ahead of them is a perfectly ordinary, dark wooden desk. Along the edges are glowing screens that show aerial view maps of groups of buildings. 

Behind that is an alien. Shorter than both humans, they have a long snout like a greyhound, and are covered in shaggy, periwinkle fur. A tiny pair of circular glasses perch on the very tip of their nose, and their eyes glow the same green as the walls. They wear something terrifyingly similar to a suit on Earth, with a satiny finish and a deep red bowtie.

The alien perks as Ryou looks over. Two long ears, which had been slack at the side of their face, fluff up like a bat. The alien as a whole rises several inches up, and it takes Ryou a moment to realize they were floating rather than growing larger..

“Ah, you must be the Duo Package ticket holder,” the alien says. Their voice is shockingly low, nearly pure bass. “You certainly took some time to redeem, hm? No need to worry, your reservations are always good at Elysium Interdimensional Resort.”

Ryou opens his mouth. Closes it. 

“One second.” Then he turns to the other man and plasters on a smile. “Hey, Quiet. Long time no see. Assuming you’re the same— uh. I can explain.”

Ryou really hopes he can explain.

Quiet looks around, eyes tracing from Ryou’s hair and face to the desk to the otherwise empty room. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he says flatly, an edge of sarcasm creeping into his voice. “Were you the one who did this?”

Meep. Okay, Quiet is annoyed. Not that Ryou can blame him, since he had even less warning what was about to happen.

“I... okay, I don’t really know. I touched an egg and—” This wasn’t helping, was it? “I think I can sort this out really fast and get us home. Sorry to interrupt...” Ryou trails off, fingers twitching helplessly at his side. “Uh, you weren’t in the middle of a mission or anything, were you?”

One eyebrow slowly raises. It doesn't make him look more enthused. “No, thankfully not. I was just on Olkarion.”

Immediately, Ryou’s eyes snap to Quiet’s prosthetic. “Yeah? Just as a rest stop, or—?” Ryou cuts off as Quiet’s eyes flick pointedly to where the alien still floats, politely waiting for them to finish.

Right. The situation. Cool plant-based arm technology can wait.

Ryou nods. Turning on his heel, he sets his shoulders, trying to project affable calm. He steps forward—

And jerks to a halt, as if he’s tethered to something heavy behind him. Ryou’s hand automatically reaches behind him, but his fingers close on empty air. When he whirls around, he catches Quiet stumbling like he’d been shoved forward a step.

Ryou takes another large step backward. Once again, he feels the powerful tug, and Quiet is yanked forward.

Their eyes meet, both wide with questions neither of them can answer. Quiet visibly sets his jaw.

“Oh,” the alien says, still perky. “Are you telepathically bonded? No need to worry, our resort is accessible to all manner of psychic and physical differences. Elysium Interdimensional Resort is a respite for everyone, after all.” They spread their arms wide, revealing fuzzy paws.

Ryou stares. The alien has toe beans. He’s not sure why that throws him.

Then he plasters on his smile again. Turning, Ryou faces the desk, putting down the hammer he’s been clutching. “Hello. I believe this is a misunderstanding. The... ticket to your resort was left behind on a planet some time ago. I found it and accidentally activated it. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Could we be sent back home?”

The alien’s expression falls, from cheery greeting to utterly contrite. The change is so complete that Ryou can’t help suspecting it’s a customer service act. “I’m so sorry to hear that! Yes, of course, we can send you back to your dimension. Just let me contact my manager.” With that, the alien begins to type rapidly against the desk. One of the screens flips from a map to scrolling text.

Ryou’s shoulders relax. The word ‘dimension’ is extremely alarming, but the receptionist seems calm, if apologetic. To them, this might be a routine cancellation, and then both of them will be home.

Quiet steps up, expression polite and without any of the frustration that he showed to Ryou. But there’s still a frown pulling down his lips. “Just one thing. Ryou and I aren’t from the same universe. Can we make sure we’re sent back correctly?”

The alien freezes. “I’m sorry?” Their deep voice becomes brittle.

Oh no.

“We’ve met before,” Ryou says, still forcing his own smile. “But we’re not from the same universe. We just need to be sent to different homes.”

The alien cocks their head, frown becoming honestly confused. “How can you be from separate worlds if you cannot be apart?”

“It’s new,” Quiet says flatly. His eyes cut sideways to Ryou, narrowing pointedly. “As of the last two dobashes, even.”

“I think it happened during transport,” Ryou agrees. His own smile finally slips away.

The alien drops their paws down and floats silently, seeming to think it through. Then their eyes go wide. “Oh,” they breathe. “That’s... unusual. Were you alone during transport? That can have odd side effects.”

Quiet’s turns to look at Ryou, both brows up now.

“Yes,” Ryou admits. He straightens up, trying not to feel guilty. He hadn’t  _ done _ anything. Yeah, the situation sucks and he’s sorry to drag Quiet into this. But all he’d done was his job, which meant investigating technology.

The alien looks between them, eyes narrowed. Their gaze darts between Quiet’s armor and their mostly identical, scarred faces.

Then, their mouth drops open, and both paws clap over their elongated muzzle. “You’re both from Voltron!”

Ryou has no idea what that had to do with anything, but he nods. “Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Different versions, but same guy. Theoretically.” In practice, very different. But they are each a version of ‘Ryou’.

Immediately, the alien starts to type again, this time more urgently. “I’ve contacted my manager,” they said, now openly nervous. “They should be here shortly. Please, make yourself comfortable while we fix this.”

Crap.

“Thank you for your help,” Quiet says, polite as if this happens every day. It doesn’t seem to calm the receptionist, but they get a jerky nod for his trouble. While the alien is occupied, he snags up what looks like a pamphlet version of the projected maps.

Ryou scrubs over his face with his left hand. The pair of them step away, careful not to get too far apart. “First of all, I’m really sorry about this.”

Quiet sighs deeply. He sounds like a parent whose child keeps getting into trouble. “It’s clear it was an accident, if an annoying one. At least you have good timing.” He opens the pamphlet. Ryou shuffles over so he can look over his shoulder.

The alien had called this place a resort—and Elysium, which has implications Ryou is not nearly ready to tackle yet. But the map shows more than that. There’s a hotel section, as well as dozens of neatly labeled restaurants. But the area is far bigger. There are gardens, theater venues, and rides. Lots of them.

It’s less of a resort and more of a theme park. A  _ huge, _ elaborate one.

“Huh,” Ryou mumbles. “I’m almost sad to turn this place down.”

“I’m not,” Quiet says. He hands the pamphlet off to Ryou. “We have more important things to be doing than this, I’m sure. Unless your universe is very different from mine, we have a war to fight.”

“We do,” Ryou agrees. He looks over the rides carefully, mostly out of curiosity. If this is some kind of interdimensional theme park, he wants to know what’s offered. Maybe one day they’ll get a second chance to go. “So, uh... you guys got back to your world without any issues, then?”

Quiet nods, folding his arms behind his back. His stance is polite, but Ryou knows his brother and his own face well enough to read hints of impatience there. “We did. I hope Takashi’s arm had no issues.”

Ryou’s lips quirk up. He’d almost forgotten calling Shiro ‘Takashi’, and just remembering drawing the name out childishly brings him glee. “Yup, all good. The biggest problem we had was that the damn cat apparently didn’t like us stashing those aliens in her storage.”

Nose crinkled, Quiet nods. “That’s understandable.” There’s a note of warning, like Ryou is the one being unreasonable.

Which is fair. Ryou absolutely is. But he doesn’t care, thanks so much.

“Awkward thing to wake up to, I’m sure.” Ryou grins, unrepentant. He rocks back on his heels and looks over his shoulder. The screen has switched from text to a video feed of another of those fluffy blue aliens. They and the receptionist murmur to each other, urgent but professional.

Silence stretches between both of them. Ryou isn’t really sure what to talk about next, other than the weird situation. He doesn’t know much about Quiet’s universe. Missions, yes, but nothing worthy of small talk. Despite being technically versions of each other, they’re not really similar enough to hit it off.

Actually, Ryou can think of one thing. But bringing up cold blooded murder in a resort reception room feels like a bad idea. Besides, Terkon is a difficult subject even in good circumstances. Ryou doesn’t want to spring that on Quiet, especially when it means he has to own up to how badly he fucked up.

Quiet, appropriately, seems unbothered by the silence. (Ryou bites his tongue against a joke.) Instead, he tilts his head just enough to watch the alien without making it obvious he’s staring.

The screen abruptly goes blank. Then there’s a flash of white light across the room. Now that he’s observing rather than in the middle of it, Ryou can see the way the light forms into the shape of a being, before abruptly cutting out. 

In the light’s place is another of the greyhound-like aliens, presumably the manager. This one shorter but fluffier than the receptionist. They lack the tiny glasses, and their suit is made of a shiny, navy material.

The manager floats their way over, their hind paws just barely avoiding skimming the carpeting. They have no wings or anything keeping them aloft that Ryou can see, but the move like gravity is an option for them.

“Welcome to Elysium Interdimensional Resort,” the manager says, plastering on a smile. “My name is Yulvire. It seems you’ve had a chaotic visit. We’re deeply sorry for the confusion.”

“No need for apologies,” Quiet says smoothly, before Ryou can even open his mouth. “It was an accident on all sides. We’re still confused, though. Can you explain what’s gone wrong?”

Yulvire nods, making their long, shaggy fur sway. It, too, seems immune to gravity. “Of course. Our tickets are designed to transport the appropriate number of guests to Elysium. However, in cases where that number is incorrect, there are a few moments of disorientation before they are returned to their dimension. From there, a call is placed to determine the issue and reattempt connection. In your case, however, something about the system went wrong.”

Ryou glances at Quiet, stomach sinking. Quiet meets his gaze, expression carefully blank.

Likely, both of them were thinking of the last time they’d met, where their quintessence had been equally strange. The aliens in that biolumenscent world had been basically blind to them because of it. The running theory had been that something about Haggar’s creation of them was different enough to cause the reaction.

It wasn’t a difficult leap in logic to guess the same thing had happened here.

“Guess so,” Ryou says. “Do you know exactly why?”

Yulvire shakes their head. “I’m afraid not. We’ve never experienced anything like it. Relva says you’ve met before? Perhaps you formed a rudimentary connection then, and it pulled you both together when you were transported across dimensions.”

“That’s something we can look into later. For now, I’m sure you understand that we’d like to head to our respective homes. We have a lot we need to be doing.” Quiet straightens his shoulders, subtly emphasizing the armor.

Ryou’s brows jump up. Quiet isn’t wrong, but he’s still surprised to see him playing the Paladin of Voltron card. Still, judging by how the receptionist had reacted before, it’s probably an effective tactic.

Quiet had said before he was a diplomat. Apparently knowing what buttons to push is part of that. 

Floating up an extra couple of inches, Yulvire presses their paws together. Their expression stays calm, but their posture seems more nervous. “We will be able to get you home, of course, even to different universes. However, Relva also mentioned the...side effect.”

Ryou gestures at the empty distance between them. “The bound thing? Yeah, that’s definitely a weird one. We think it’s from transport, though, not how we were before.”

Yulvire nods firmly. “Yes, we understand that. However, it does make the process complicated. Can you step apart for me so I can better understand the situation?”

Glancing at Quiet, Ryou nods as well. “Yeah, definitely.” He waits for Quiet to brace himself, then takes a careful step back, and another. Once they reach about five feet apart, Ryou’s brought to a halt. Quiet’s legs lock, like he’s fighting being pulled off his feet.

Both of them turn to Yulvire, tense but hopeful.

Yulvire sinks down again, their paws connecting with the ground for the first time. Their huge ears flatten back against their skull. “Does it cause pain to pull apart like that?”

“No,” Quiet says, holding up a hand as if to soothe. “Not at all. It feels like we’re tied together. It pulls me along, but doesn’t hurt.”

“Same here,” Ryou chimes in. Once again, he reaches between them like he can find whatever is keeping them bound. “It’s centered...” He prods his sternum, right where he feels the pressure the strongest.

Yulvire taps their paws together thoughtfully. Both ears remain fretfully pulled back. “Even so, it would be dangerous to forcibly separate you without first breaking this connection. Either one of you could be tugged to the other’s universe without means of getting home, or the connection could continue to pull. We don’t know what kind of damage that could cause.”

Yeah, okay, being tied to someone in another universe was probably not a fun experience. Ryou’s stomach sinks as panic starts to take hold. They can’t be stuck here because of some fluke freak accident. All because he cleaned up the weird shiny egg he’d found. 

“There has to be something we can do,” Ryou says, words coming faster as his heart clenches. He doesn’t look at Quiet, afraid of what he’ll see in his expression. 

The more upset Ryou becomes, the more Yulvire’s fur seems to deflate. They land fully, ears flopping down on either side of their head. “We will get you home safely, I promise you that. But we need time to understand what happened during transport to ease that connection. I’m deeply sorry for the delay. In the meantime, we’re happy to offer you a complimentary stay in one of our finest rooms, as well as open access to all our facilities.”

As Ryou recovers from his panic, Quiet frowns thoughtfully. “How long do you believe it will take to send us home?”

“Within two quintents,” Yulvire replies. They speak stiffly, like they’re fighting off a wince. “Perhaps only one, even. In the meantime, we promise you the utmost comfort. Elysium Interdimensional Resort is the ultimate destination the multiverse over. I hope you can find something entertaining and uplifting in that time.”

A day or two, Ryou mentally translates. It’s simultaneously a relief and terrible. When Yulvire had been so hesitant, Ryou had feared the worst. Possibly months. Two quintents max isn’t so bad in comparison.

But a quintent in the life of Voltron is a long time. Who knows what could happen in the meantime? Emergency missions, Galra attacks, Castle malfunctions. What if they’re needed?

Quiet lets out a low sigh, eyes squeezing shut. “Would these two quintents pass the same between this dimension and both of ours?”

He looks even more upset than Ryou feels. Which isn’t a surprise — Ryou remembers full well how protective Quiet’s Shiro had been. Disappearing for even a few varga is likely to worry him.

Shit. Ryou’s stomach twists guiltily. 

“It will,” Yulvire says carefully, like they’re not sure that’s the answer they want to hear.

Well, it would be nice if they were zapped back just a few ticks after they’d left, just like last time. But at least they won’t be gone for ages.

That’s still not good news.

“We understand,” Ryou says, turning to Yulvire, whose fur now hangs limply. “But we have family and friends who will be worried soon. Is there any way for you to send a message back where we were?”

Yulvire starts, ears finally perking back up. “Yes, of course! We can make contact, and you can speak with them and explain the situation. After, we can show you to your rooms and get you comfortable while you wait, as well as get your accounts set up if you’d like to experience anything while you’re here. Is that agreeable?”

Okay, that was better. Ryou forces on a smile, if only because Yulvire looks downright sickly under their distress. He’s not sure if it’s nerves from upsetting celebrities or something else, but he doesn’t want to ruin someone else’s day while he’s at it. “That’d be great. You first, Quiet?”

Quiet glances at him, but nods. “Yes, the sooner the better.”

“Excellent,” Yulvire says. As the pair of them agree, they seem to perk right back up. Once again, they rise up into the air, then turn to the wall. A ball of light appears, and they gesture to it. “Right this way.”

***

_ “And you’re  _ sure  _ you’re safe?”  _ Shiro presses.  _ “This isn’t some kind of trap?”  _

Five doboshes later has them situated in what appears to be a staff-only room, lined with screens on the walls. Yulvire had explained that they contacted customers and set up packages for visits to the resort here, although currently it’s unoccupied. 

As promised, these...Elysians?...had been able to make contact with the Castle of Lions fairly quickly. One of the screens is lit up with Shiro’s face, which is currently full of worry. His voice is also full of worry, although only Quiet can hear it. Yulvire had provided him with a strange earpiece that offered at least  _ some  _ measure of privacy. Ryou had sidled as far away as he could against their strange bond, to at least pretend to offer a private conversation.

“Yes,” Quiet says wearily, for the fourth time. “I’m sure. These guys are practically tripping over themselves to give us the best customer service possible.” Relatively speaking, anyway, since they seemed to float everywhere they went. “If it’s a trap, it’s a really weird one.” 

_ “I don’t like it,”  _ Shiro says.  _ “That they can just make people disappear like that.”  _

Quiet hasn’t been gone all that long, but apparently it was enough to cause a stir. He’d disappeared into thin air off a street on Olkarion in broad daylight, witnessed by no less than twenty Olkarion civilians, all of whom had immediately reported it to Voltron. Not to mention the Black Lion had inexplicably started rampaging in its bay at the sudden disappearance of one of its paladins from their reality. 

Needless to say, the team had been gearing up for an all out missing persons hunt when Quiet finally managed to check in. 

“It’ll be fine,” Quiet promises. “Hopefully, it’s just a couple of quintets. You can manage that long without me—Allura might have to gear up for that dinner with the Kerudites, though. I don’t know if I’ll be back in time.” 

_ “I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you.”  _

“I’ll be fine, too,” Quiet says. “If anything happens, I’ve got Ryou for backup. He literally can’t get five feet from me right now, so it’s not like we could get split up.”

Ryou looks up when he hears his name, and offers a jaunty wave from where he’s trying his hardest to pretend he’s not there. Quiet can’t help but think it looks a little... _ less  _ enthusiastic than he remembers from the Vogn incident. 

Shiro grumbles, and Quiet fights the urge to roll his eyes or throw out a snappish argument about Shiro being over-protective again. He’s not sure the anxious Yulvire in the corner can handle it, with the way the poor Elysian wrings their paws and flattens their ears every time Quiet has so much as an unhappy thought. Shiro’s  _ really  _ been trying to curve back the mother-hen tendencies, and for the most part, he’s done well. Quiet can probably cut him some slack on this one, considering he’d disappeared into thin air and from their entire reality. 

_ “Alright, fine,”  _ Shiro says.  _ “But be careful. It sounds like these guys know about Voltron, and that could be good or bad.”  _

“I promise,” Quiet says. “I’m sure Ryou will be perfectly willing to punch the first person or thing that looks at us funny.” Nearby, Ryou snorts, but nods in agreement with the half of the conversation he can hear.

_ “I’m sure he will,”  _ Shiro says, now with a faint trace of amusement. Then he sobers again.  _ “You have your meds, right?”  _

Quiet’s spine stiffens at the question, and this time he  _ really  _ has to bite back the urge for an irritable retort. It’s a fair question, considering the circumstances, but  _ still.  _ “Yes,” he says, a little sharply. 

_ “Okay. Just...making sure. If you’re gone for a few quintents…”  _

“I get it.” 

_ “Alright. Contact us if it’s going to be longer. Otherwise...well, if it’s not a trap, try to at least have a little fun?”  _

Quiet makes a face at that. It seems wrong to be considering a jaunt around an amusement park when the only family he has could be in mortal peril from a sudden Galra attack. But all he says is, “We’ll see.”

_ “Alright. See you in a few quintents.”  _

The call signs off, and Quiet removes the earpiece with a sigh. Ryou gives him an apologetic look, and says, “That probably could have gone worse, right?”

“I half expected him to try and find a way to break into this dimension with the Black Lion,” Quiet admits honestly. Shiro might have tried it. He might have even risked recruiting  _ Slav  _ to figure out how. “And I’m pretty sure he’s never going to let me go anywhere unattended ever again. But...yeah, it probably could have gone worse.” Though Shiro’s initial overprotective panic had still taken a while to break through long enough to explain anything at all. 

They switch off, Quiet handing Ryou the earpiece while Yulvire sets up the call to Ryou’s dimension. Quiet tries to sidle off to the side like Ryou had earlier to offer some measure of privacy in the conversation, taking four steps to the left until he can feel the gentle tug at his sternum. He crosses his arms, leans against the wall, and tries hard not to listen in.

It doesn’t really work. Quiet can’t hear Takashi’s words, but he can catch glimpses out the corner of his eye at the screen, and he can hear Ryou’s responses. As far as he can tell, Takashi is initially just as worried as his own predecessor had been, although he seems to calm a lot faster as soon as Ryou starts explaining the situation. And Ryou explains the mess so casually one might have thought he’d spontaneously decided to take a day-trip to the space mall, instead of being transported to another dimension entirely.

After fifteen doboshes, his call is completed, and he looks moderately more relaxed as he hands the earpiece off to Yulvire. 

“Are you all set then, sirs?” Yulvire asks, drifting close to accept the headpiece. Their ears prick up hopefully, as though desperate for the affirmative.

“We definitely feel a lot better about an extended stay, now that our realities know why we’re missing,” Quiet says, in his best diplomatic voice. He’s still not  _ ecstatic  _ about the situation, but at least Shiro and the rest of his team won’t be losing their minds for the next two quintents trying to find him.

“Very good! I will personally show you to your room, then,” Yulvire says. “I have had our staff preparing it for your arrival. Due to the nature of your bond, we have taken the liberty of upgrading some of the accommodations to account for your range of movement together.”

Quiet has no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but he dutifully follows the hovering greyhound-like alien anyway, with Ryou alongside him. 

Yulvire swipes a rune-covered card against a door in the main foyer, and another of the balls of light appears, swirling into an open portal for them to step through. It’s an impressive display, but the other side of the portal is even more so. 

Ryou whistles appreciatively at the suite they step into. The main room is huge, with additional doors leading to other rooms farther back in the interior. The whole place is like an enormous apartment. It’s a far cry from Quiet’s little plant-filled paladin bunk. 

Everything is done up in the same tasteful white, mint and cream as the alcove, luxurious without being excessive. The carpet is plush and sinks beneath Quiet’s armored boots. There’s a pair of comfortable couches bordering an artful piece of furniture that looks like a fireplace—if fireplaces were fueled by crystals. And there’s an actual  _ fish tank  _ in the corner, filled with alien species he’s never seen before. A kitchenette is in one corner, and another door opens into what looks like a fairly large bathroom. 

Ryou takes a few automatic steps forward with interest, and tugs Quiet forward in his excitement. “Oops. Sorry.”

Quiet waves him off. It’s a hard thing to keep track of—he’s never been tethered to anyone else like this before. “It’s okay. Where were you going?”

“Window.” Ryou points, and Quiet dutifully follows him to the enormous picture window, complete with a reading nook. Ryou peers outside—to a shockingly pretty view of the park’s gardens, which have to be at least sixteen stories below. Sixteen stories they  _ definitely  _ did not climb. 

“How’d we get up here?” Quiet asks, bewildered, giving Ryou a confused look.

“Merely a portal, sirs,” Yulvire explains. “The door in the main alcove automatically takes you to your registered suite when you use your circlet keys, no matter what floor you’re on. The doors to the suites are also outfitted with the same portal technology, so leaving through this door—” they gestures to the one behind him, “—will take you back to the ground level to enjoy the resort.” 

“Oh,” Ryou says, eyes lighting up. Quiet feels a little faint. It’s like Allura’s wormhole powers, and yet used so...trivially. While Allura’s wormholes can only be generated by a noble Altean and a rare kind of technology, these people use it for something as simple as getting guests to their rooms. It’s a crazy thought.

Then again, they run an  _ interdimensional  _ resort. If they’re carting people back and forth from other realities on a regular basis, using portals to move from one room to another probably  _ is  _ trivial.

“Your packages have been prepared for you,” Yulvire says, ghosting over to an elegant coffee table set near the couches. A thick folder stuffed with sheaves of paper sits on the table, as well as two slim bracelets, one white and one mint colored. “The circlets are your keys—they are spelled with the runes that will permit you entry to your rooms. You may also use them on any entertainment, restaurants, or purchases you see fit, which will be registered to your complementary account for the duration of your stay. The paperwork details all the shows and establishments you have access to. But if I may say, sirs, we’ve upgraded you to our VIP package, so you should have access to everything in Elysium short of staff-only locations.” 

“Wow,” Ryou says, as Yulvire’s ears prick up again hopefully in delight. It’s probably rude, but Quiet can’t help but imagine the creature wagging their tail happily. “That’s a lot of stuff. Thanks.”

“It’s the least we can offer, considering the unfortunate circumstances,” Yulvire says, and there’s no mistaking the slight rush of relief in their voice. Quiet swears he actually floats up an extra inch. “We’ve also taken the liberty of preparing additional apparel options, free of charge, in case you would like to enjoy the parks in more comfortable clothing.” They gesture to a pile of clothes on the second couch, in all manner of colors. 

“Thank you,” Quiet says, and this time he’s the one feeling relieved. The Voltron armor is certainly comfortable for its intended purpose, combat. It’s less comfortable for casual, everyday wear. Plus, these people  _ do  _ know Voltron. Ryou is in civilian gear and might not be recognized, but if Quiet started wandering around in his distinctive armor, he’s going to stick out like a sore thumb.

“Of course, sirs!” Yulvire says, beaming at them. “I am more than happy to assist. Is there anything else I can get you at this moment?”

“I think we’re good for now,” Quiet says.

Yulvire makes a surprisingly elegant bow, considering they’re essentially a floating, alien canine in a fancy suit. “Very good. If you do need anything, you need only ring the bell on the mantle. It is spelled so we can hear it anywhere, at any time. One of our staff members will be delighted to assist you. I have some of my best casters and scientists researching your situation even as we speak, so please don’t trouble yourself with it. Enjoy your stay at Elysium!” And with another quick bow, the creature disappears into another ball of light.

There’s a long moment of awkward silence, before Ryou says, “They really put out all the stops here, huh?”

“I guess,” Quiet says. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to, honestly.” He’s never encountered anything like this since being his own person. And if Shiro had ever stayed at any fancy resorts, it’s a memory that the failsafe purged out of him.

“Same,” Ryou admits. “But they seem... _ really  _ eager to make us happy. Like, weirdly so.”

Quiet nods slowly in agreement. “Yeah, I’ve been getting the same feeling. It’s like they get weaker when we’re upset…” They’d even stopped floating when he and Ryou had been particularly distressed, and had been incredibly eager to placate them any way possible.

Of course, now that the Elysians aren’t hovering over their shoulders, it’s easy to remember all over again what a terrible predicament they  _ are  _ in. Sure, Shiro knows he’s not dead or captured somewhere, but it still grates that he’s stuck here at all. And the day had been going so well, too.

Something must show in his expression—or more likely, Ryou is just very good at reading Shiro expressions—because he winces apologetically. “I really  _ am  _ sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think this would happen. I was just cleaning off the new tech we found, and then...poof.” He makes a little exploding motion with his hands for emphasis.

Quiet blows out a frustrated sigh. “I know,” he grumbles. It’s unfair of him to be as ticked with Ryou as he is; Ryou didn’t ask to be here either. He’s trying to keep a level head about it. But even so… “I just...the one time in my life I’m actively  _ trying  _ to not act like Shiro, and I pull a Shiro anyway. Disappearing into thin air? The rest of the team freaking out? Tell me that’s not familiar.”

If anything, this seems to make things worse. Ryou’s expression is so guilty Quiet feels like he just kicked a puppy. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I _definitely_ didn’t mean to screw up you being your own person…”

Belatedly, Quiet remembers exactly who he’s talking to—a version of himself who is  _ vehemently  _ dedicated to being his own individual, and loathes the thought of deliberately pretending to be Takashi. He really meant that, and he really  _ would  _ feel awful about taking away somebody else’s individualisation, even by complete accident.

“It’s fine,” Quiet promises. “It’s...I mean, like you said. It could be worse. At least they know I didn’t get ported off and stuffed in a dream-cage.” He pauses. “But if I get back in two quintents and I’ve been replaced by somebody else calling himself ‘Ryou’ while I’ve conveniently been away, I am  _ definitely  _ blaming you.”

Ryou actually barks out a weak laugh at the morbid joke. “Yeah, okay. Fair, considering.” 

Quiet offers his own weak smile. They’re not exactly off to a great start, but at least they’re better. “Should we take a look around the place we’re living in for the next two quintents?”

There’s a lot more to see. There’s a balcony, with another beautiful view of the parks, and a sitting room with some sort of TV setup. The kitchen is stocked with snacks and drinks of all kinds, all free of charge. The bedroom is comfortable, with two queen-sized beds, although based on the way the room is set up Quiet guesses there’d been a single enormous bed in here before. That was probably one of the accommodations Yulvire had mentioned earlier. The covers are soft and the mattress is so relaxing that when Ryou hurls himself onto one of them experimentally, he sinks into it like a cloud.

“This,” Ryou says, face muffled by the half dozen squishy pillows his head is buried in, “is really, really comfortable. Wow. They know what they’re doing in paradise, I’ll give them that. Try your bed.”

“I doubt it would be that comfortable in armor,” Quiet points out. The paladin gear was exceptionally sturdy when it came to defense, but the chestpiece had a tendency to dig into the abdomen, and you could never lay on your back comfortably with the jetpack. 

“Good point. I wonder what kind of clothes we got?” Ryou asks brightly. 

“We?” Quiet raises an eyebrow. “You’re in civilian gear already. What does it matter to you?”

“Because they’re free, and they’re souvenirs, so of course I want some,” Ryou says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m officially on vacation now. Why shouldn’t I dress in the local style?”

Quiet can’t help but roll his eyes at that.

Extricating him from the pillows and mattress takes some work, and Quiet lends him a hand to dig him out of the pile. Eventually he’s liberated from the bed, and they check out the pile of clothing left for them. 

“This is  _ incredible,”  _ Ryou says, delighted, as he digs through the piles of clothes.

“No, this is a nightmare,” Quiet argues, despairing.

There’s normal jeans, and boots that resemble his own back at home. Even comfortable gloves, although he’ll only need the left. But the  _ shirts.  _ There’s at least two dozen T-shirts provided, but almost all of them are brightly colored, and each one is stamped with some kind of brand for either the park, a character, or a goofy saying. In the worst circumstances, even all three.

Nearly  _ all  _ of them are Voltron related.

Not  _ Voltron,  _ Voltron, either. Quiet spots at least half a dozen of the idiotic catchphrases that came with  _ The Voltron Show!,  _ emblazoned with cartoonish depictions of all five Voltron Lions, as well as Lance, Hunk, Pidge, ‘Keith,’ and of course, Shiro. 

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t want to take this back to your Shiro as a souvenir,” Ryou says brightly. He holds up a purple shirt emblazoned with a cartoonish sketchy profile of their shared face, and a bold  _ Shiro the Hero!  _ stamped underneath it. 

Quiet has to take a deep breath and do his best to not remember the hours of  _ the Voltron Show!  _ that he’d been forced to participate in. He—not Shiro. Not for the first time, he deeply regrets that for all the awful things the failsafe had done to his brain, the worst was not having the decency to purge him of  _ those  _ particular memories. No, it had to take the  _ important  _ things like  _ walking.  _

“No,” he finally grates out, after a moment. And then, a little more pleadingly, “Isn’t there anything...normal?” 

Ryou apparently takes pity on him, because he shifts through the stack of T-shirts until he finds a black one with a graffiti-style art piece of the Black Lion emblazoned across its front, and a stamp of the resort logo on one of the sleeves. “How’s this?”

Quiet would have preferred a plain black T-shirt, but beggars can’t be choosers. It doesn’t have a stupid saying on it, or draw attention to the fact that his face is identical to the ‘Shiro the Hero’ character. “Fine.” 

Changing is a bit of an awkward experience. They can’t get more than five feet from each other, which means maintaining any kind of privacy is difficult without being clever about it. In the end, Quiet stands inside the bathroom next to the closed door, while Ryou changes just outside of it. It works, but it’s the first time it’s really driven into Quiet’s head just how much they’ll have to coordinate, just to do basic things like ‘use the restroom’ or ‘take a shower.’ 

This is not going to be an altogether fun experience, he can already tell.

He exits the bathroom with his arms full of paladin armor, and is greeted to Ryou’s eye-blindingly bright yellow T-shirt, stamped with Hunk, the Yellow Lion, and the phrase  _ Humorous Hunk  _ in bright red. Ryou’s grin is just as blinding as he holds his arms out to display his T-shirt, and he says, “Eeeh? Whadya think?”

“I certainly won’t lose you in a crowd,” Quiet says dryly. “Assuming I even could, with, y’know…” He gestures between the two of them. 

Ryou grins wider, if that’s even possible. “That’s the idea.” 

His eyes drop to Quiet’s armful of armor, and settle on his right arm, exposed now that he’s not wearing the full black undersuit. They widen in obvious excitement, and his fingers twitch as though he wants to reach out and grab Quiet’s Olkari wrist to examine it further. He holds himself back with remarkable restraint, though...possibly due to some lingering guilt.

Quiet shakes his head, but it’s more fond this time. “You want to take a look at my arm, don’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t have to if you don’t want me to. I just never got to see it when it wasn’t covered in armor, but I can wait—”

Quiet rolls his eyes in amusement, dumps his armor beside Ryou’s abandoned civilian clothing next to the bathroom, and offers his wrist to his counterpart for examination. “Go ahead. May as well get it out of your system if we’re gonna be stuck together for two quintents.”

Ryou needs no second invitation. He immediately takes Quiet’s Olkari wrist in his own two hands, gently turning the arm over to display it from all sides and examining the joints. It’s the first time Quiet’s ever seen Ryou’s own right arm, which really does have a very Altean-technology look to it. “This really is incredible. It looks and moves like it’s natural. If your hand wasn’t gray and like...metal...I’d think it was a real limb.”

“Biomechanical Olkari engineering at its best,” Quiet agrees, flexing his arm to display the synthetic muscles contracting and releasing. “I’m guessing you didn’t get Takashi to agree to one of these, if this is your first time seeing the design up close, though.”

“Nope,” Ryou says, pouting. “Not for lack of trying. I’ll get him one day.”

“Good luck,” Quiet says sincerely.

Ryou eventually tires of examining the arm, after asking a hundred questions—some which Quiet can answer, and some he just doesn’t have the technical knowledge for. So they head over to the couch to investigate the stack of papers in the folder. 

At least, Ryou does, flipping through the contents curiously. Quiet flops back against the comfortable couch wearily, mentally setting off a timer in his head. Two quintents to go...he wonders if he’ll even make it that long, or if he’ll drive himself insane from the separation first.

“Neat,” Ryou says, flipping through the documents. “They gave us a  _ lot  _ of extras. Fast passes for all the rides. Guaranteed reservations at the restaurants. Early access for special shows. Damn, a full line of credit to buy anything at the gift shops we could ever want. Oh, and room service available at any time for you—serving thousands of different kinds of cuisine from different worlds.” 

“You need to eat too,” Quiet says dryly.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t so much matter  _ what  _ I eat,” Ryou reminds him. “No taste, remember? You’re the Hunk-trained foodie.” 

Quiet grunts in agreement. He had not forgotten that little bit of trivia about his counterpart, actually, and he still feels bad for him. He can’t imagine not being able to taste any number of interesting dishes.

“It’s all linked to these things,” Ryou says, tossing the folder aside and picking up the two colored bracelets. “Flash’em and we get anything we want basically. Hey, they even come in our colors.” He grins, taking the white one for himself and snapping it neatly around his left wrist, and handing off the pale green one to Quiet.

“Pretty sure they’re the resort’s colors,” Quiet points out. He snaps his own band on, but not with nearly as much enthusiasm as Ryou had. The reality of their situation is really starting to set in now, and with it, Quiet just feels tired.

“What do you want to do first?” Ryou asks, spreading one of the pamphlets with the brightly illustrated maps across the table. 

Quiet raises his head from the soft couch and gives Ryou a blank stare. “Do?”

“You know. Entertainment. On our vacation.” He lifts the map and waves it pointedly in Quiet’s face. “For the resort. The one that has a ton of stuff to do to pass the time. Did you forget already?”

Quiet flops his head back against the couch and closes his eyes, sighing. “How could I forget? We’re stuck here for two quintents.”

Ryou frowns at him, dropping the map back on the table. “You okay? I get it’s not great, but you seem really down about the time limit.” A thought seems to occur to him, because his eyes widen suddenly. “Oh. Crap. Uh, I know you’re kind of touchy about it, but...you  _ do  _ have that medicine of yours, right?”

That sends a spike of irritation through him, but Quiet manages to force it down. It’s a fair question, considering the circumstances. The only time Ryou had been exposed to Quiet’s failsafe illness, they  _ had  _ been on a time limit—if Quiet didn’t get to his medication quickly enough in the Vogn world, he’d have started getting sick again. 

They’re in essentially the same situation now, just with less violent opposition involved. It’s a legitimate concern, even if it rankles that Quiet’s been asked twice in less than a varga about it, like he’s helpless.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. He reaches into the pocket of the new jeans he’s been given, withdrawing the slim Altean pill case Coran had designed to retract into the paladin armor thigh holsters. He gives it a rattle, and it’s clear the case is full of medication. “I’d be good even if we were stuck here for a feeb. Let it be known I learn from my mistakes.”

“Okay. Cool.” Ryou raises his hands placatingly. “Then I won’t ask again. Just wanted to be sure.”

That’s nice, at least. Ryou had been pretty protective of his own predecessor the last time they’d all met, but at least he’s not employing the same mother-hen tendencies as Shiro. It’s already an improvement.

“If that’s not the problem though...what is?” Ryou asks, curious.

Quiet shrugs as he slips the pill case back in his pocket. “It just seems wrong, you know? The team could be fighting for their lives or dying right at this moment, and we’d be...what, going on thrill rides? Eating at pricey restaurants? It doesn’t feel right.”

Ryou considers this for a moment, but then nods, twisting himself up comfortably on the couch to face Quiet better. “I get that. And if we could go back right now, I would, hands down, even if all the stuff here is pretty cool.” He shrugs. “But we can’t. Not for lack of trying, but we’re stuck here. If we can’t go back home anyway, why spend the whole time sitting around staring at the wall?”

“I don’t know,” Quiet mutters. “Less guilt?”

“You’ve got nothing to be guilty for,” Ryou says, waving that aside. “And I didn’t know it was an inter-dimensional ticket, or I never would’ve messed with that thing. It’s not like we skipped out on our teams.”

Quiet grumbles.

“Look, I don’t know about you, but  _ I’ve  _ never had a vacation,” Ryou says. “And Takashi wasn’t exactly big on them before that, so I don’t have many  _ memories  _ of a vacation either.” 

He gives Quiet a pointed look. Quiet blinks, digging through his own memories, but doesn’t find anything of interest. “Same here,” he admits. 

“So? The moment we can leave, we will. Until then, we might as well get a new experience. Remember what I said about new experiences?” He elbows Quiet with a significant look on his face. “And no Shiros here to compare to. It’ll be an all expenses paid Clone Outing. No first edition humans allowed.” 

Quiet can’t help but snort at that. “First edition humans?”

“I calls’em as I sees’em,” Ryou says. “So? You in, or not? Please say yes, because I can’t exactly get very far on my own right now.” 

That’s true. They sort of have to be in this together, whatever their decision is. And Quiet has to admit, seeing what the resort has to offer does sound better than sitting and staring at the wall for two quintents. Doing so might make him feel a little less guilty, but it’s not going to pass the time any faster.

“Alright,” Quiet says, sitting up a little straighter and liberating himself from the soft, squishy back of the couch. “As long as we actually agree on the things we’re doing. This is...this is a lot.” He really  _ has  _ been trying to take Ryou’s advice, but in smaller doses. The full scope of Elysium is a bit...overwhelming...to take in all at once.

“Fair enough,” Ryou agrees. “Push your boundaries, but nothing  _ too  _ out there.” He grins, holding up the pamphlet map again. “So. What’s first on the agenda?”


	2. Chapter 2

To Ryou’s dismay, first on the list is not any of the many roller coasters or thrill rides. He’d suggested it, because they’re both clones of the same astronaut who drove hoverbikes off cliffs for fun. Quiet had only nodded along agreeably, but without real enthusiasm. Guilt still clung to the edges of his expression.

What Ryou doesn’t want is to drag Quiet along on their Clones’ Day Out by their new psychic tether. Especially not when, yeah, he was the one who got them into this mess, accident or no. This is the  _ perfect _ opportunity to give him experiences outside of his Shiro memories. Quiet should get to enjoy himself if he can.

Besides that, it’s just not nearly as fun to go through a giant amusement park with someone who’s only humoring him. Ryou can generate a lot of enthusiasm on his own, but that’d get old quickly.

In the end, the thing that makes Quiet finally sit up isn’t any of the cool rides, or the shops, or the spa. It’s the sprawling gardens just outside the hotel.

The trip between their rooms and the garden entrance takes only minutes. Ryou follows after Quiet, nose down in the pamphlet. He’s read the tiny excerpt on their destination several times already (‘experience a tranquil walk through our vibrant gardens, always in full bloom! See the wonders of nature, each individually selected for beauty and safety from hundreds of universes.’). It still hasn’t explained to him why  _ this _ is what Quiet wants to do.

His enthusiasm is clear, though. Quiet’s eyes are already wide and a pleased smile curves over his lips as they approach. 

The entrance gate is open and absolutely covered with a riot of blooms in all colors of the rainbow. The smallest is the size of a dinner plate, and the largest could cover the top half of either of them. The metal is twisted into alien script that Ryou already recognizes as the resort’s logo.

It’s pretty enough, and it smells nice too. Ryou can appreciate it aesthetically. But he definitely doesn’t get the same spring in his step that Quiet has. 

Inside, a dirt path winds through beds of plants. The whole thing is a riot of life, and only a portion of it is the green Ryou instinctively expects. There are bushes with bright silver leaves and stems that twine with navy vines. Grasses sway in the same light pink of cherry blossoms, which surrounds huge, ten foot tall white leaves that sprout alone out of the ground.

Quiet lets out a soft noise of awe and walks slowly along the edge of the path. He stops in front of another floating screen and scans over the information quickly. “This is amazing,” he breathes.

Following after — there’s not much other choice, after all — Ryou peers over Quiet’s shoulder to read as well. It’s basic information, like the name of the plant and the universe it comes from. One or two mention what the plants are good for, like medicine or food. Nothing more.

“It’s pretty,” Ryou offers, because it definitely is.

Quiet gestures widely at the entwined group of plants. “All of these are from different universes,” he says, as if that should explain his awe.

“Yeah,” Ryou agrees slowly. “They seem to get along okay.” Is this supposed to be a metaphor or something? Quiet doesn’t seem the type.

Quiet makes a frustrated noise. “You don’t understand. Each of these plants isn’t just adapted to their own planet, but to their own universe. Each of them needs a specific amount of sun and nutrients and water. But they’re all growing together, perfectly content!” He tilts his head and ducks down, trying to see below the plants. “I want to know if they researched to see if they all have similar requirements. Or are they individually caring for each plant, even when they’re so close?”

Watching Quiet, Ryou blinks against a dizzying surge of deja vu. Something about this is so familiar, but he can’t remember Takashi ever acting like this, much less over plants. So why—

No. It’s not Takashi he’s thinking of. It’s  _ himself. _

Quiet is as passionate about this as Ryou is about his tech. His curiosity and enjoyment are just like how Ryou had been over Quiet’s arm.

Giddy joy rushes up into Ryou. That’s not a Shiro thing, so far as he knows. This is a purely Quiet development.

He  _ did it. _

“Sounds difficult,” Ryou says, trying for casual. He doesn’t think he manages, but luckily Quiet is distracted reading over the next screen. “You know a lot about plants, then?”

Stilling, Quiet glances at Ryou. He doesn’t blush, but there’s a bashful curl to his shoulders. That doesn’t dent his quiet pride (heh). “I’m learning. It started by accident when I was gifted a plant and had to learn how to care for it. But it grew, and it’s been useful. Hunk appreciates the extra herbs and food.”

“I bet.” Ryou jogs to catch up, until they’re walking side by side. The path is just wide enough to keep them from bumping elbows. As they wander deeper in, the plant life surrounds them. Ryou can still see the hotel if he looks up, but at a casual glance they’re completely surrounded by teaming alien greenery.

They pass a patch of flowers, carefully maintained so that the colorful petals form the shape of one of the park’s characters. Quiet makes a soft, eager noise and stops next to a set of blooms whose dark red petals twist like corkscrews.

“Do you think they’d let me take samples?” Quiet asks. He kneels down and reaches out, never touching but curling his fingers just below the plant. “I’m sure they must have information on how to care for them.”

“If you asked I bet they would. The aliens who run this place really like making people happy.” Ryou rocks back on his heels, taking in Quiet’s eager expression. He’s never seen the guy so at ease. Their last meeting had been under pretty tense circumstances, after all, and since arriving he’s been annoyed or guilty.

Quiet looks happy.

Ryou doesn’t bother to hold back his own smile. “So, what kind of plants do you have?”

“Several. The Castle has gardens and a caretaking system that does most of the work. It’s helpful.” Quiet pulls away reluctantly, then slowly stands. The pair of them continue their slow trek. They have to step aside when a small family of aliens passes them by. “If you’d like, I can give you a list of the food and herbs my Hunk has found.”

Ryou tilts his head, sliding his hands into the jean pockets (having pockets is excellent. He needs new pants when they get back). “I mean, that’d be good. But, like, what’s your favorite?”

Finally, Quiet tears his eyes away from the plants. His brow is furrowed as he looks Ryou over. “Why? Do you take care of plants as well?”

Ryou laughs. “Nah, not my speed. I like shiny things, especially when they go fast or fly. But you’re excited about it, so I want to know.”

At first, Quiet continues to stare incredulously. It’s the look of someone who knows their hobby is deeply boring to most other people. But then understanding softens his expression.

Apparently his motivation is obvious enough that he doesn’t have to say. Ryou’s been open about wanting to help Quiet find his own identity. It bothers him on a bone-deep level that Quiet is so much more like Shiro. He’ll happily listen to Quiet talk about the multiverse’s most dull plants if it means encouraging his individuality.

“I have a few favorites,” Quiet finally says. He looks away, focused on the gardens, but it doesn’t hide his growing smile. “But the first is special to me. It started after a diplomatic mission...”

It’s not hard to keep Quiet talking about his plants. Turns out, there’s a lot of them. Like, a giant room of high-tech equipments worth. Admittedly, the special Altean system interests Ryou more, and Quiet is patient explaining what he knows of how it works. But Ryou keeps the questioning to a minimum, and instead focuses on how it serves the different plants.

The conversation flows easily. For the first time, they talk without awkward pauses or stumbles when the subject matter isn’t life or death. By the time Quiet is explaining about growing Allura’s stash of seeds, they’ve reached the end of the garden path.

Ryou glances back at the dense jungle of alien plant life and nods to them. “Do you want to head in and ask about getting some?”

For a moment, Quiet looks deeply tempted. But he shakes his head. “No, we can ask later. And it would be best to get any clippings before we leave, not now. They’ll be difficult to care for in our rooms. What’s next?” He nods to the pamphlet.

Ryou opens it back up, though he watches Quiet from the corner of his eye. He’s definitely more relaxed now. “Well,” he says, drawing out the word for several seconds. “There’s plenty to pick from. On the other side of the hotel, there’s a bunch of places to eat and tons of rides. But it doesn’t really matter  _ where _ anything else is. Seems like they can just portal us to any ride.”

“True,” Quiet says. He peers down at the map, considering their options with more enthusiasm than earlier. “Can we walk, or do we need to take those portals? It’d be nice to just look around and pick what seems interesting.”

As cool as the transport is, Ryou can see the appeal in that. He spends a lot more time cooped up in labs than he used to. Stretching his legs on the garden path has been nice. “I think we can.”

They cut through the hotel quickly and this time come out on the park side. A wave of noise crashes over them. The gardens had been nearly empty, with only one small family crossing their path. The park, however, is  _ packed. _ It’s difficult to walk down the main street without stumbling into running alien children and their frantic guardians. 

“I miss the quiet already,” Quiet says under his breath, just loud enough for Ryou to pick up.

Leaning in, Ryou fights to keep down his smirk. “But you’re right here,” he says, as innocent as possible.

Quiet shoots him a flat glare, which finally makes Ryou break into snickers. Then he starts to walk at a fast clip, jerking Ryou along. He doesn’t slow until Ryou stops laughing.

This area is lined with not only food stalls and restaurants, but shops. Ryou peers into those with more interest, fascinated by the toys and merch he can see through the windows. Many of them are full with clothes like what they’re wearing, including one that seems completely dedicated to  _ The Voltron Show! _

Ryou doesn’t point that out. He doesn’t want to push his luck so quickly after his last joke, especially now that Quiet seems to be having more fun. But later. He has  _ plans. _

Quiet, on the other hand, seems more focused on the food options. Which makes sense. Ryou might be too, if it wasn’t all different kinds of tasteless mush on his tongue.

“May I ask a personal question?”

Ryou’s brows jump up. He presses closer to Quiet as a huge group of tall, many limbed aliens wearing the park’s giant novelty bow ties tromp past. “Sure, go for it.” He keeps his tone even, despite his squirming stomach. Surely Quiet can’t be bringing up  _ him. _

“You can’t taste anything at all?” Quiet starts to step further away to pass around an ambling couple. At the last minute he moves closer to Ryou before he can activate the tug.

Oh. Ryou relaxes. “Nope. I can smell, which helps. But nothing at all. It’s actually nice, because most alien food doesn’t bother me.”

Quiet cracks a smile. “I can see how that would be helpful. I’ve had to politely choke down plenty of interesting meals.” Despite his easy expression, his eyes are sharp and thoughtful. “Does anything help?”

“Nah. Hunk’s done his best and Coran took a go. But it’s not because of my tongue. It’s because of here.” Ryou taps his temple. “A bug in the system. But Haggar could have done far worse, so I’ll take it. I still like some foods. Dry cereal type stuff is nice. I like crunchy.”

Quiet’s lips press thin at even the oblique mention of the failsafe. He nods and looks back at the restaurants, arms stiff at his side. 

And there goes the conversation. Ryou winces and crosses his arms over his chest. He knows better than to bring that stuff up. It just seems stupid to complain about his sense of taste when he’s walking next to someone who has survived so much worse.

(Assuming Ryou’s turn at the failsafe doesn’t start any day now.)

As they get through the first section, the road splits. A check of the map shows the left goes to several of the thrill rides Ryou has been eyeing, as well as a water park section. The right leads to some gentler faire, like dark rides or child-level attractions.

But what catches Ryou’s eye is just ahead. A number of games of skill are lined up just to their left. They’re all in garishly bright colors, and offer walls of silly prizes to anyone who can master them.

Ryou’s eyes had glazed over this area on the pamphlet. Who  _ cared _ about these dinky games when he could be dropped from several stories? But in person, they’re charming. And, more importantly, the pair of them have bracelets with unlimited tickets. Even if they’re rigged like the ones on Earth, it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to lose.

“Hey,” Ryou says, nudging Quiet with his elbow. He points to the closest game, which involves hitting a target with a water gun. “Want me to win you something?”

Quiet snorts, but a smile pulls up the corner of his lips. “Do you think you can?” The question is worded politely, but there’s an undercurrent of disbelief and challenge. By now, Quiet  _ knows _ Ryou can read him, which means it’s completely on purpose.

Oh, he’s on.

“Definitely,” Ryou says, with completely undo confidence. The only gun he’s ever personally used is for paintball, and only because he designed it. But Takashi had passed his firearms competency courses. How bad can it be?

The booths are bustling, but not nearly as overwhelmingly busy as the street. Most people must feel like Ryou had. Which is good, because it means they don’t have to wait long for Ryou to step up to one of the water guns and scan his bracelet.

About twenty feet away, holograms of angry looking cartoon characters appear and bob in place. Some move from side to side at varying speeds. A light on the side of the gun flicks on as Ryou picks it up.

Taking careful aim like in his memories, Ryou fires.

The water lands five feet short of his target.

There’s no laughter or jeering behind him, but Ryou is deeply aware that Quiet is watching. 

Ryou pushes that aside, readjusts his focus, and fires again. This time, the water goes far enough, but it hits just left of the target. The third shot gets the blustering character, which flashes and then disappears.

Okay, that’s one down, and more than a dozen to go. Ryou fires at one of the moving targets — and misses, shooting over the top instead. Then to the left, when it moves from where he’d aimed. The right, when he adjusts but shoots too late.

Finally, Ryou hits the second target, and gets two more by the time the gun lets out a little fanfare and the characters all vanish.

One of the Elysian hosts floats their way over, ears fluffed up and muzzle parted in a smile. Ryou’s pout makes them lose about an inch of height, but their expression doesn’t change. “Not bad! Would you like to use your points for a prize, or try again?”

“Did I even get a prize with that?” Ryou asks, setting the gun down firmly. Definitely not his weapon of choice. Give him a shield and his claws any day.

The alien nods eagerly, their glowing eyes big and hopeful like a dog hoping for a head pat. “Of course! Everyone's a winner. Feel free to pick from any of the tier one prizes.” They gesture one fluffy paw back at the lowest section of the prize wall. They are, in a word, uninspiring. Most of them are tiny toys, like the kinds attached to keychains, or snack food. 

Ryou considers trying again, but he genuinely doesn’t enjoy humiliating himself. He can take a joke, but he has his limits. So he picks out a paper mask of the Black Lion and accepts it with as much grace as he can.

But before he can offer his winnings, Quiet steps past. “I’d like to try next.”

“Of course!” The Elyian says, a smile still plastered across their muzzled face. There’s more fanfare from another booth, and they float off to help the next guest.

Ryou watches as Quiet flashes his own bracelet and the game once again begins. “Is this to show me up or because you want to play?”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both.” Quiet takes aim, waits a moment, then fires.

He hits two of the moving targets at the exact moment they move in front of each other.

Ryou’s ears burn as his lack of skill is put into perspective. But he still lets out an approving whoop, because he can appreciate a good shot. Lance is his best friend, after all.

Within a minute, Quiet has hit all of the targets. His water gun lets out a new cheery tune of victory as he sets it down. A satisfied smile curls at the sides of his lips. It doesn’t shift even when Ryou smacks his back in congratulations.

“Okay, I need to learn to do that,” Ryou says.

Quiet shrugs and inclines his head humbly. But there’s no denying the pleased spark in his eyes. “I learned from Lance, so you have all the tools you need.”

“Having a gun arm to practice with probably helps.”

“True.”

The Elysian returns, their green eyes glowing brightly. They clap their paws together, the sound muffled by their thick fur. “Congratulations! Wonderfully done. With that score, you can pick any prize you like off the wall.”

Quiet taps his chin, smile growing thoughtful as he ponders the large selection. His choices are far more varied, from some kind of video game, to huge toys with flashing lights and moving parts, to novelty gear. 

Finally, Quiet points to one toy in particular. It’s a massive stuffed animal, half of their height. The orange torso and head are nearly a perfect circle, with tiny stubby arms and feet. It has long floppy ears like a rabbit, though their curl into ringlets, and huge blue eyes. A rounded, plush pair of horns sprout from the top.

The alien floats up several feet to reach the prize, then hands it off with a huge, beaming smile. “Congratulations! Would you like to play again?”

“I think that was enough. We’ll let someone else play.” Quiet takes the toy gently. Then he presents it to Ryou with a grand air, as if this is an important artifact. His expression is still perfectly polite, but there’s a smugly competitive fire to his eyes.

Ryou knows what Quiet expects is for him to pout, or stick his tongue out, or throw a fit. Maybe all three.

But instead he lets out a delighted gasp and takes the toy, squeezing it tightly. His arms sink into the soft plush. It’s  _ exquisitely _ squishable. “His name is Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe,” Ryou declares, grinning at Quiet over the top of Coran-the-Plushie’s head. “And he’s my new best friend. Thank you! This one’s yours.” He holds out his much less impressive paper mask.

Quiet’s brows rise as he mechanically takes the mask. “You’re going to take that thing everywhere now, aren’t you?”

“You  _ really _ should have seen this coming.”

Quiet groans, but this time it conceals a laugh. “I really should have.” He shakes his head. “Can we go on a real ride now?”

_ Yes. _ Ryou beams, but hides his smile in Coran’s round head. “Yeah, sure. But only if you wear the mask.”

***

Quiet does wear the mask, for about two doboshes. It’s not because he particularly likes the fashion statement, but more because Ryou cajoles relentlessly—” _ C’mon, I won it for you, don’t let my best efforts go to waste, Quiet—”  _ until he eventually caves just to shut his counterpart up.

He’s pretty sure he looks like an idiot in it, based on the way Ryou gives him that shit-eating grin only he is capable of getting on their shared face. At least he doesn’t have a camera or phone on him.

He eventually does remove it though, ignoring Ryou’s pout. “There’s no peripheral vision in this,” Quiet grumbles. “Or even regular vision. I’m going to crash into people.”

“Alright, fair,” Ryou says. Quiet is—thankfully—allowed to stick the paper mask in his pocket for the duration of the visit. 

Sadly, the bright orange plush he’d won for Ryou is not so easily tucked away. Ryou unashamedly carries it along under one arm as they wander down the paths towards the rides. It forces the crowds to swirl around him in order to avoid running headlong into the fuzzy, enormous whatever-it-is. 

“They can just send that back to our hotel room, I’m sure,” Quiet points out. “You wouldn’t have to lug it everywhere.”

“And have Coran miss out on all the wonders of Elysium?” Ryou asks, with feigned shock and horror. “I could never!”

Quiet gives him an exasperated look. “You won’t be able to take it on half the attractions anyway.”

“Don’t listen to him, Coran,” Ryou says, laboriously shifting the enormous plush around so he can wrap his free arm around its corkscrew floppy ears. “We’ll take you on as many rides as we can.”

Quiet  _ really  _ regrets getting him that thing. The victory had been short-lived. He should have known better.

Once they actually wend their way through to the rides, though, things start getting a lot more interesting for the both of them.

There’s some rides that they’re in complete agreement on from the start. The park showcases four enormous roller coaster style rides, all with various themes. One is full of corkscrews and spins, one goes backwards halfway through, one is in pitch blackness, and one has a drop that’s almost as tall as the main hotel itself and can be seen from anywhere in the park. 

The two of them don’t even need to coordinate before targeting those first, jumping right into the fast pass lines without so much as a conflicting tug in their weird dimensional link. The coasters might be tame compared to leaping out of a Voltron Lion thousands of feet in the air, piloting an intense space battle against a hundred fighters, or blasting through astral rifts, but it doesn’t matter. They’re still fast, fun, and get the adrenaline flowing. They both holler at the tops of their lungs through the dives, spins and swoops, and they enthusiastically save the holo-photos snapped at the end of each ride to their bracelets for later. 

Ryou’s only complaint for any of them is that Coran isn’t allowed to come on the rides, and remains in a holding cubby at the loading station until the ride is over. That doesn’t stop him from telling the plush enthusiastically about each coaster after they get off. 

Quiet would be worried about his sanity, if he didn’t already know this Ryou was just... _ like  _ that.

Other thrill rides don’t take much argument either. A randomized drop ride is next on the list; Quiet has always loved a freefall, and Ryou is apparently of like mind. A bungee attraction comes after. Their Elysian assistant actually seems to gain a little extra shine to their fur and elevation in their hover from how enthusiastically the two of them hurl themselves off the staging bridge with absolutely zero hesitation. 

Other rides still sound exciting enough that both of them are on board after learning what they are. There’s several attractions that use holograms and clever illusions to  _ feel  _ like thrill rides when they’re not actually going anywhere at all. They remind Quiet a bit of what he remembers of the flight simulations back at the Garrison. Neither he nor Ryou are familiar with the park characters or stories, but they still have fun. 

They’re also the first rides Coran can attend with them. Ryou gleefully buckles the plush into the seat between them on the first one, giving them  _ just  _ enough space for their five-foot link, grinning all the while.

Quiet  _ really  _ regrets that decision.

Those are the sorts of rides that Quiet would be content riding, and after several varga of hunting down the most adrenaline-spiking attractions, he’d be willing to call it a day. Maybe find some food with a good restaurant, relax for a bit, take another stroll through the gardens, or see if they have a track or a gym somewhere he could train. 

Quiet isn’t the only one making the decisions here, though. Ryou seems absolutely hellbent on trying  _ everything  _ the park has to offer, even the slower, tamer, or more charming rides. He’d probably wedge himself and Coran-the-Plush into the kiddie rides, too, if he wasn’t over the height and weight limit for them, just to say he did it. 

Quiet expects it to be obnoxious. In actuality, it’s kind of fun. Ryou’s enthusiasm for giving everything at least one try is sort of catching, and he’s more willing to give the rides a shot himself when he’s visiting the park with someone else. Besides, Ryou can’t exactly go on the rides without him, and Quiet would feel maybe a  _ little  _ bad keeping him from his one chance to do any of this.

So they hit the alien equivalent of the tea cups, with little domed seats that can be made to spin faster with the use of a wheel in the center of the cart. Ryou wedges Coran between them to hold the plush in place, and eyes gleaming, grins at Quiet. “How fast do you think we can spin it?”

Quiet raises an eyebrow, but can’t help but smirk a little at Ryou’s enthusiasm. “Are you serious? What are you, five?”

“We’re both younger than that and you know it,” Ryou says flippantly. “C’mon, what are you, afraid of getting sick?”

“Please. After all the High-G training we’ve done?”

“That  _ Shiro’s  _ done.”

“Same difference,” Quiet says, waving it aside. “We’ve both been in our Lions in worse. A ride cart is nothing.”

“Then you won’t have a problem helping me hit max speed,” Ryou says, tapping the wheel challengingly as the full ride begins operating.

Quiet rolls his eyes, but leans forward to fasten his arms on his side of the wheel. Ryou’s grin is almost blinding in response.

As it turns out, the answer to ‘how fast do you think we can spin it’ is ‘really damned fast.’ Neither of them has the bulk of their respective Shiros, but both of them  _ are  _ equipped with a metal arm that significantly exceeds normal human strength. Between the two of them, they have the cart spinning so fast it’s a blur, as is everything outside. If Coran wasn’t shoved between them, they’d have lost the plush out the side of the cart. 

As it is, by the time the ride slows down and their cart locks into place, Quiet’s head is spinning and he stumbles like he’s gone through six cups of nunvile. But he’s laughing just as hard as the equally stumbly Ryou is. 

The Elysian ride operator is delighted with their obvious satisfaction with the ride, but does politely ask them to please consider other rides before returning. It’s the nicest, most cheerful way to tell them to get the hell out and not try that crap on their ride again, but Quiet can’t exactly blame them.

So they go on the arcane illusion ride, and point details out to each other as the whole room supposedly spins around them. It’s laughably fake, and easy to reorient perspective, after having grown used to adjusting perspective in zero gravity. It’s still fun, anyway.

Then one of the slow little dark rides, on a boat that ambles its way through a preset track while guiding its riders through a holographic illusion- and animatronic-made story. Quiet supposes it’s charming enough, probably especially for families with kids. He finds it a little dull, but it becomes more entertaining when Ryou starts rambling about the work it must have taken to hide the technological smoke and mirrors, and the quality of the animatronics.

“They’re really good,” he insists. “Look at the natural movements. I wish I could take one apart, see how it works.” He gestures at what Quiet thinks is the main character in a much-beloved series in an unfamiliar alien dimension, to the horrified stare of a mother and her two kids in the row behind them. 

Count on Ryou to accidentally traumatize young aliens by suggesting dismantling one of their heroes. But it is sort of funny at the same time, and they have a little chuckle about it after.

The dark ride next door is not nearly so charming, at least to Quiet. Mostly because the moment they pass through the double doors in their cart-on-a-rail, they’re treated to the same obnoxious song over and over, for the duration of the slow, three-dobosh ride. It’s loud, peppy, and oh so repetitive. Even worse, the moment Ryou spots Quiet’s trying-to-maintain-a-neutral-face expression, he looks Quiet dead in the eye while grinning, and starts singing along, horrifically off key. 

“What did I do to make you hate me,” Quiet grouses, when they finally manage to escape the cart. After a moment, he adds, “Again.” 

“C’mon,  _ Quiet,”  _ Ryou drawls, with that same shit-eating grin from earlier. “It was a song all about  _ friendship.  _ It’s practically Voltron’s theme song, right?”

“I hope not,” Quiet mutters. “It was terrible. Those are entire doboshes of my life I can’t get back.”

But less than a dobosh later he finds himself humming the obnoxious little ear worm under his breath, without even noticing until Ryou whirls around, points in his face, and crows,  _ “Hah!”  _

Why exactly  _ had  _ Quiet agreed to go on a Clone Day with Ryou again? 

Right. Interdimensional tether. 

They try a little of everything throughout the day, cycling throughout the park, occasionally pausing for a snack here or there from one of the cart vendors. At only one point does Quiet put his foot down, almost literally, and that’s when Ryou starts angling for the water park down one path to the left. Quiet digs his heels in, bringing Ryou to a halt at the end of their five foot tether, at which point his counterpart looks over the top of Coran’s plush head in surprise. “What’s the hold up? It’s hot—we should try the water park next.”

That does seem to be what a lot of other visitors are thinking right now, based on the stream of alien life heading down the left-most path. Quiet’s not actually sure how the weather works in Elysium—the pamphlet had talked about rotational seasons, and no matter how long they’re there the sun doesn’t seem to be rising or setting, so he has a weird feeling the place is somehow artificial. 

But regardless if it’s natural or Elysium-made, there’s no doubting it feels like summer: perfect for water rides. In the distance are enormous water slides that tower over that section of the park, along with a variety of pools and man-made beaches. He can see the crowds and hear the delighted shrieks.

He wants no part of it anyway. “I’d rather not,” he says. 

Ryou closes the distance between them, so that the tug of their link isn’t so strong, and cocks his head curiously. “How come?” he asks. 

Quiet has an uncomfortable feeling Ryou’s reading into whatever Shiro-like expressions he might make out of habit to try and figure that one out. It’s really not fair; Ryou’s got the advantage here. Even if there’s  _ probably  _ no way he could guess at the reason behind Quiet’s discomfort. Maybe. 

He hopes, anyway. He  _ really  _ hopes. Ryou had said last time he hadn’t remembered anything about being made. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up on this. 

But there’s just no way Quiet could stomach the water parks. Being submerged so suddenly in water in the pools and beaches, or in those narrow, soaking wet tubes...it’s too close to drowning alive over and over in tanks of purple-pink liquid for his liking. 

It takes all his willpower to suppress his sudder, especially in the presence of someone as good as Ryou is at catching his tics. But he thinks he manages. 

Instead, he offers neutrally, “We don’t even have swim trunks.” And before Ryou can argue that the Elysians would almost  _ certainly  _ supply them for free, he adds, “Besides, you can’t take Coran—he’ll get soaked.”

Ryou narrows his eyes a little too thoughtfully for Quiet’s liking. 

“We’ll compromise,” Quiet argues, in a last-ditch attempt at diplomacy. “We haven’t hit the raft ride yet, and it looks like there’s some kind of log ride too. That should cool us down, but you’ll be able to leave the plush with the attendants. Fair?”

Ryou considers, before finally saying, “Fair. Let’s go, then, it’s  _ hot!”  _ And he leads the way down the rightmost path. 

Thankfully, the rides do get you soaked as advertised, without ever actually being dunked under water. Quiet looks like he’d jumped in a pool by the end of them, even if he’d never had to, and Ryou is an almost perfect mirror of thoroughly sodden Shirogane. Their bangs are plastered in their faces and their boots squish awkwardly, but the whole thing _had_ been fun. And one of the attendants had even helpfully supplied Coran with a complementary poncho when they picked him up, which meant the plush didn’t become equally sodden through contact as Ryou hauls him around again.

“I think we have time for one more right before we get some actual dinner, not just snacks,” Quiet says, as he does his best to wring out his Black Lion T-shirt. “What’ll it be?”

Ryou attempts to extricate his paper map, finds it soaked through, and instead uses one of the posted park guides to the side of the walkway. “Can’t do bumper cars,” he says, with honest regret. “Or the go-karts. I’d  _ love  _ to beat you in a race—”

“—but we can’t get five feet from each other,” Quiet finishes. Pity. Aggressively chasing down  _ just  _ Ryou in bumper cars, or beating him in a race, might have been fun. “Oh well. What else do we got?”

Ryou studies the map. A ghoulish grin slides onto his face. “How about the haunted house?”

Quiet snorts. “You’re on.” Honestly, nothing could be more terrifying than some of the things he’s actively fought since becoming a member of Team Voltron. 

The haunted house is another dark-ride style attraction, with carts that seat up to four people, fastened with a simple lap bar mostly meant to encourage people to keep sitting. They get a cart all to themselves, and yet Ryou still insists on wedging Coran in between them, instead of sticking him in the back seat. 

Quiet doesn’t think Ryou is going to get tired of this bit at any point during their vacation. He’s also sincerely beginning to dislike Coran’s would-be plush descendant. 

The cart rattles off through the dark hallway into the first room, and the ride begins. The signs outside had warned that the ride could be ‘too intense for small children, hatchlings, and spawn,’ and the foyer into the ride proper had been done up with all manner of spooky decorations, so Quiet imagines it’s supposed to be genuinely terrifying.

To Quiet and Ryou, it’s hilarious.

It’s not the fault of the ride, really. It’s doing its best, Quiet thinks. For normal people, it probably is scary. It’s just that, after almost dying to man-eating plants and giant hungry wildlife, being hunted by a madman, and facing down actual witches and druids, anything the ride has to offer is sort of tame by comparison. Ryou must feel about the same, even if their experiences differ, because he’s chortling within the first thirty ticks of the ride.

It’s fun, actually, if not the way it was probably intended to be. They wave cheekily to the scare actors that leap out at them, and compliment them on their costumes. They laugh outright at every single high-pitched shriek of surprise they hear from their fellow riders. They exchange commentary on the set-pieces (“Hah! There’s the holographic emitter, they hid it pretty well behind that bloody skull,” and “That  _ looks  _ like bleeding aster, but it’s actually skiddlevine, probably a good call if they don’t want to kill their patrons”). Ryou makes a point of covering Coran’s eyes and ears during some of the ‘most frightening’ bits, but he’s grinning the entire time he does. Possibly the most offensive part of the ride are the authentic smells, pumped into each room to make the immersion for the set-pieces a little more real, and that’s mostly only because some of them  _ truly  _ stink.

That gets them through the haunted swamp, the dread woods, the large graveyard, and well into their tour of the first three rooms of the ghost filled mansion. Then the cart swoops downward, ostensibly to take them into the ‘basement,’ and that’s when things stop being funny.

It’s a mad scientist’s lab, not out of place in a haunted theme ride. The ride is dark, but there are bright, fluorescent lights over the set-piece to their right, burning cold and sterile over the scene. Fake blood in varying colors spatters the walls, and there are several gleaming exam tables with uncomfortable sharp, bladed objects of unspecified use hovering over them on spindly metal arms. An animatronic figure with far too many arms and a long gray coat bends over something that oozes on one of the tables, as the pre-recorded track shrieks about its ‘latest creation’ over the noises of spinning drills and ventilators. 

Quiet barely notices the figure. He’s too busy staring at the six tanks of colored fluids that bubble behind the animatronic, complete with loud sound effects. One of them is an eerie reddish pink, and he can’t take his eyes off it, even as the cart rolls along.

_ “Operation Kuron stage one successful—”  _

No, no, nono _ nonono,  _ not now, not  _ here,  _ not with Ryou right  _ there— _

He digs his fingers into the lap bar and tries to tear his eyes away. Tries to fight the memory back. 

But it’s the  _ scent  _ that takes the choice out of his hands. That thick, cloying stench of formaldehyde and medications and other chemical smells clogs his nose, and it’s shockingly, abhorrently  _ familiar,  _ and suddenly nothing about this is funny and all of it is  _ too real.  _

_ “Subject Y0XT39 has passed all first phase requirements of Stage One. Beginning preparations for phase two.” _

_ Drowning and cutting and yelling and helplessness and too much pain, pain, pain— _

Quiet feels more than hears the pained whine that chokes in his throat. He can’t breathe. The smell is too thick in his mouth and nose. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to  _ hurt.  _

_ Run.  _

His Olkari arm wrenches upwards on the lap bar once with barely a conscious thought needed, and it screeches in protest.  _ Don’t be tied down again. Don’t be tied down. Get out. Run!  _

To his right, out the corner of his eye, he sees movement over the plush toy wedged into his side. Ryou opens his mouth with a confused look on his face, but his expression immediately falls into concern and alarm. “Woah, hey—what’s wrong? Quiet?”

He doesn’t answer. He wrenches upward with the Olkari arm again. It doesn’t have the Galra arm’s power, but it doesn’t need to—the bar’s a flimsy bit of metal, and if he doesn’t want it to hold him in place,  _ it won’t.  _

_ Get out. Now.  _

The lap-bar snaps with a metal  _ crack _ into the open position, and Quiet makes his exit without a moment’s hesitation. 

He immediately feels a sharp tug in his chest. It’s significant, but in his panic he can’t remember why. He bulls forward, pulling at the tug, ignoring the yelp and the sharp, “Woah,  _ Quiet— _ hold up—slow down—”

_ Get out. Now.  _ The scent clogs his mouth and nose so badly he’s not sure if he’s going to throw up, or stop breathing. The bubbling in his ears and the sharp whirl of equally sharp instruments are a crescendo he can’t handle anymore.

_ “Quiet!”  _ someone barks. He jerks in alarm at that. They hadn’t liked the noises, and—no, that’s not right. That was a long time ago. But the  _ smell— _

A moment later, the voice says, “Crap. No, wait—uh,  _ Ryou.  _ Hey. This way.” This time, the voice is a little calmer, more cajoling.

The tug is back, and this time he can’t bull through it. He’s lurched in a different direction, but a moment later he sees another clone—wrong clone—no,  _ Ryou— _ gesture at a thin outline in the backdrop. “Exit,” he says, and it’s the same cajoling voice from a moment before. “C’mon. This way. Almost out.” 

He follows. Anything to get out of here.

The door leads to a blessedly less dark hallway, where the smell gradually fades, and the noises stop almost immediately. It’s better, but Quiet still doesn’t feel quite right, shaken and twitchy. He’s not sure where to go, but Ryou is ahead of him, and he mechanically follows the light tug at his sternum that leads in that direction. 

“Almost out,” Ryou repeats again. “Just a couple more ticks, okay? Hang on.”

One of the Elysians emerges from another hall, and attempts to intervene in the backstage area with a bewildered, “Sirs, you can’t be back here!” But the creature all but collapses harshly to the ground, the luster leaving their fur, as Ryou and Quiet approach. Their eyes go wide, and they clap their paws over their mouth. “Oh, dear…”

“Not feeling good,” Ryou says curtly. “Exit?”

The Elysian points with a shaky paw, and Ryou brushes past, leading Quiet after him. It takes all of thirty ticks to reach the door, and Ryou shoves it open, ducking aside just in time to let Quiet stumble out into fresh air, warm sun, and the safe sounds of happy crowds.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow it feels fitting that Ryou is more scared of Quiet’s reaction than anything that haunted house ride had to offer.

For the first time, their bond is a benefit rather than a pain. Ryou keeps backing up, stepping barely five feet away to tug Quiet in the right direction. The emergency side exit dumps into a teaming crowd, and Ryou doubts Quiet wants an audience to his panic. Ryou wouldn’t.

Quiet stumbles blindly after the tug, barely responding at all to Ryou’s words. He does at least seem to respond to his tone, so Ryou keeps his voice light and chipper, and his arms firmly at his side. No sudden moves, no aggression at all.

For all he teases and prods, Ryou knows the lines. And he knows how to handle a Shirogane having a flashback. It’s what he  _ does. _

His first order of business is to duck down a small service alley. It’s a tiny space between a ride and another gift shop, maybe used to service the mechanisms of the ride. Most importantly, it’s abandoned, and judging from the accumulated grime, it’s rarely used.

“Okay, there we go,” Ryou says, so chipper he could be channeling one of their alien hosts. “This is a nice place, isn’t it? Quieter.” He considers making the expected joke, but pushes it away. The reaction to the nickname before had been bad. Ryou can guess why. “I’d like to sit down for a minute and rest. Want to join me?”

When Ryou presses himself to the metal wall and slides down, Quiet leans against it as well. He doesn’t settle down, but he takes several deep, shaky breaths through his nose. His eyes are scrunched up tight and his fingers clench and relax at his side.

“Ryou?” Ryou calls, still gentle but without the forced cheer. “Can you tell me something about where we are?”

Quiet cracks his eyes open and glances down at Ryou. His gaze is clearer, and there’s a twist to his lips that says he knows what Ryou is doing.

Well, good. If he’s aware and participating, he can be as pissy as he wants. It’s better than the blind terror of before.

“We’re at...” Quiet’s voice comes out a croak. He pauses and closes his eyes. “We’re at the park.”

“Right,” Ryou says, still softly. “Will you describe something about it to me?”

Quiet scrubs both hands over his face. His bangs, still damp from the water rides, stay upright for a moment before falling down limply. “There’s hundreds of beings walking by, it’s hot out and the sun is too bright.”

The sharp answer is supposed to throw Ryou off, he’s sure. But he lets it roll off him as easily as Quiet’s usual annoyance at his antics. He can keep up his calm concern while Takashi slams him onto the floor. This is nothing. “Good. Need another minute, Ryou?”

Quiet grunts and looks away. “I’m aware again. You don’t need to call me that.” He braces both feet on the ground as if he needs to steel himself against an attack.

“It’s your name,” Ryou says. He stands and dusts off his jeans. “Come on, there’s a portal station right down the street. We can head back to the hotel, and—”

“No!” Quiet whirls on him. His eyes are bright, his previous tension catching into anger like sparks on tinder. “I’m fine. I don’t need to be bundled off to the hotel. I was startled and I needed a moment, but that’s it.” Despite his words, he’s tensed up like a bow string.

In the moment, Ryou had barely questioned Quiet’s panic. Something had set him off, so he got out. Nothing else had been important except getting him somewhere he could breathe and recover.

But now, curiosity jolts through Ryou like electricity. What was it that had  _ startled _ him? He thought Quiet didn’t remember losing the arm, same as Takashi. Has he remembered since, or is this something else?

Swallowing that, Ryou crosses his arm and stares Quiet down. “Really? You feel like going on rides right now? Sure, how about we go on the ones we skipped in the water park.”

Quiet stills, blood draining from his face. He’d been cagey before, but now his emotions are closer to the surface.

He says nothing.

Guilt kicks Ryou in the stomach. It was a low blow. He’d been trying to make a point, but that wasn’t the way to do it. 

“Look,” he says, sighing. “It’s not saying you’re weak to take a break. We’ve been at this for varga, and it’s been a crazy day. For me, it was almost dinner when we got taken. So how about we just go to the hotel, take a bit to cool off. Then we can go get something to eat. Sound good?”

Quiet’s jaw sets tightly. There’s still rebellion in his eyes, but he’s doing his best to smother it. Finally, he nods sharply. “Fine.” With that, he turns and walks out.

Ryou follows, but not quickly enough to match Quiet’s stiff-legged gait. He gets tugged until he has to jog to catch up.

The portal stations dot the streets of Elysium, each with their own floating attendant. As they approach, they get a cheery wave. “How can I help you?”

Ryou opens his mouth to answer, but Quiet beats him to it.

“We just need to head back to the hotel for a moment,” Quiet says. His voice is perfectly even and pleasant, his expression calm. If Ryou hadn’t just heard him snapping, he’d have no idea.

Damn. Scary.

“Of course!” The Elysian claps their paws together. A ball of light appears next to them. 

Quiet nods to them and steps in, Ryou on his heels. They step out into their room as simply as if they’d walked through a door.

The calm falls away from Quiet like a cloak. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, like he’s trying to meditate right in the entranceway. Or at least trying to master himself.

Curiosity once again shoots through Ryou. He’s gotten very used to getting answers any time he has a question. He’s learned to take things apart and put them back together, or to ask an expert for help.

But this time, Ryou knows better, at least for now. So he nods to Quiet and makes for the bedroom door. “I’m going to go lay down for a bit.” He’ll give Quiet some privacy and then—

Ryou stops short, and Quiet grunts behind him.

Oh right. Shit.

Quiet huffs out something that might have been a laugh if it wasn’t so strained. “Forgot?”

“Yeah.” Ryou winces and shifts from foot to foot. His plan had been foiled before it could begin, and now he has no protection against the questions crowding into his head. What about the lab set off Quiet? What does he remember? Is it the same vague notion of saws and druids as Takashi, or does he know more?

Ryou doesn’t dare share what he knows with Takashi. But if Quiet already remembers...

They both stand in the entranceway, silent.

Ryou’s fingers twitch at his side. “I could sit on the other side of a door. Like when we were changing.”

That only earns him a flat look. “I’m  _ fine, _ ” Quiet says, each word carefully enunciated. “Let’s just... sit. Or whatever you wanted to do. This was your idea.”

So touchy. Just like with the failsafe or whenever Shiro fussed last time they were together.

Ryou holds up his hands in placation. “Alright, yeah, we’ll sit.”

They move to the couch, sitting on opposite ends. The mound of Voltron clothes sits between them like a barrier. Ryou curls his legs under him and opens up the park pamphlet. He reads it over for the dozenth time, looking over the map and taking in every word like he’ll be quizzed on it.

It takes about five minutes.

Then Ryou has nothing to do except listen to Quiet breathe and let his thoughts run wild. His eyes roam around the room, trying to latch onto something but the questions bubbling up. But there’s nothing that distracts him enough - even the fish in their tank can’t hold his attention.

Despite himself, his mind goes back to the haunted house ride. Quiet had been totally fine until they got to the basement lab. Frankly, Ryou had still found that part funny. The weird scientist character had reminded him a little of Slav, between the arms and the laboratory, and he’d been trying to think of a joke to go with it.

Mentally, he reviews all the elements, trying to come up with what could have set Quiet off. There had been all those bubbling chemicals and slime, which he didn’t think was likely. Maybe the drill sounds? Ryou’s used to that noise now, considering how much time he spends taking things apart. But it could sound like a saw if he was caught off guard. Or maybe that long coat had reminded him of Haggar’s robes at just the wrong moment.

Biting his cheek, Ryou tries to shake off the thoughts. He picks up one of the shirts and flips it over. It has all the lions flying in formation — shockingly tasteful, given the source material.

What else had been in that ride...?

Ryou slumps his head back against the couch, thumping to try and knock the thoughts out of his head No. He’s going to be good. He’s going to be...

He’s going to die of curiosity.

“Are you done?” Quiet asks.

Ryou picks his head up and looks over. Quiet is watching him, expression completely flat. Clearly, Ryou’s fidgeting has been distracting.

Oops.

“Yeah,” Ryou says, and wills it to be true. “Totally done. We’re good. We’re cool.”

Quiet rolls his eyes, but it’s without the heat he had before. The last few minutes has cooled some of his temper. “If you need something to occupy you, why don’t you—” He cuts off and looks around, brow furrowing. “What happened to Coran?”

Ryou freezes, looking down at his hands as if he could have missed carrying a giant orange plush ball. He has a vague memory of shoving the toy out of the way when he’d run after Quiet. At the time, he hadn’t thought about it at all. “Uh, I think I left him on the ride. Whoops.”

Quiet’s shoulders curl in. “Oh. We can go back and get it if you want.” He sounds genuinely contrite, as if he’d thrown the stuffed creature away.

Ryou’s brows jump up. “What? No. I mean, we can probably ask if they have a lost and found. But it’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been very attached to it.”

Ryou scoffs. “Yeah, cause it was  _ funny. _ Especially when we got the little poncho on the water rides, that was adorable. Mostly I’ve been thinking it was going to be a good backrest when I’m reading in bed.”

“Oh.” Quiet eyes him for a moment, like he thinks Ryou is lying to save him the heartache. Ryou stares back, unmoved, until he looks away. “Okay. We’ll ask later.”

“Sure.”

Silence falls again. Ryou shifts so his legs are braced on the coffee table instead. One leg bounces. It squeaks with every movement.

“So, uh...” Ryou keeps his gaze forward, but he watches Quiet from the corner of his eyes. “Can I ask a question?”

Quiet lets out a bone-deep sigh. “I’d prefer you didn’t.” When Ryou doesn’t reply, he takes a deep breath. “Fine. What?”

“Can I know what set you off?” Ryou winces. “I mean, just for safety’s sake. If something like that happens again. I’ll be more prepared and I can help.”

“Help how?” Quiet shoots back. “What could you do? Change the entire ride? Break the bar off for me?”

“I don’t know, distract you? I’m pretty distracting, you have to admit.”

Quiet snorts, reluctantly amused. “That you are.” There’s a long pause. Just when Ryou thinks he’s been brushed off, he starts again. “It was... the smell was part of it.”

Oh, there had been that strong chemical smell, hadn’t there? Ryou had barely noticed. Most of the ride had faked smells. He’d enjoyed spotting where they wafted it into the room in each scene. “Just part?”

“I didn’t like most of it, really,” Quiet says. Rather than annoyed, he sounds bitter. He folds in his hands in his lap, head down. When Ryou waits, he continues. “And the tanks as well. I don’t like being kept underwater.”

“Reasonable.” The tanks had been in the background, colored with bright dyes and bubbling. Ryou hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but apparently Quiet hadn’t just found them distressing to look at. He’d thought of himself inside of one.

Ryou can picture it too. He’d seen those clones in their tanks at the facility they found. And there’s a flash of something more. Colored water, seeing dark silhouettes through the gas, bubbles floating past. His hands on the glass, scrambling uselessly.

Two natural hands.

A shiver races through his spine. All the hairs stand up on his arm. The memory resonates, but not with any of the ones he got from Takashi.

It reminds him of his escape, of the first moments of being  _ himself. _ Running through that facility, disoriented and stumbling. Flashes of memories so disjointed and confusing. His mind slid away from them naturally. He was focused on leaving. Getting home. Voltron.

Ryou hadn’t gone back to examine those memories in detail. Now they rise up, ghosting up his spine like a phantom.

Quiet still doesn’t look up. He’s locked into place, like if he just stares at his hands long enough this will all pass over.

Ryou should let it go. He should let Quiet be. But he can see the weight on his shoulders, the stress at the corner of his eyes.

As long as he’d been named Ryou, he’d never been able to let someone suffer their own demons. Even Takashi, who had been so prepared to hate him. He especially can’t just sit back now. Not when it’s his demons too, memories or no.

And, hell, Ryou just wants to know. The image plays out behind his eyes. What happened to him? What had Haggar and her cronies done?

The answers are just inside Quiet’s head. So tantalizingly close, held off only by Quiet’s stubborn willpower.

It’s hypocritical as hell, but Ryou has to ask.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Quiet tenses further. “I already said I won’t talk about this.”

He had? Ryou leans back against the couch and thinks back over the previous day. He can’t think of any time he pushed Quiet to spill about his memories.

Then it hits — Quiet doesn’t mean today. He means last time. When Ryou had pushed him to explain himself.  _ How did you pass? _

“So this  _ is _ about how we were made,” Ryou says flatly.

Quiet starts, head snapping up. Then he flinches, realizing he all but confirmed it. “Ryou...”

“No.” Ryou turns to face him, pushing the clothes pile out of the way. The colorful fabric topples over carelessly onto the floor. The abrupt movement is sudden enough that Quiet tenses instinctively.

This isn’t helping. This is hurting. But cold, clawed fingers sink into the back of Ryou’s neck. This is how he was made. This is how Haggar twisted him from the inside. Takashi pushes because he’s afraid of what he became in the arena.

Ryou pushes because he’s afraid of what he  _ is. _

“I want to know,” Ryou continues. The steel in his voice is Takashi’s, not his own. He needs results. “I remember too. I remember being inside those.”

Quiet stills completely. His eyes shine with a sick mixture of dread and something else. Something anticipatory. “You said you don’t.”

“Not all of it.” Ryou’s mind jumps back to the conversation, scrambling for the context of what they’d talked about. Thankfully, his memory is good. Probably a result of Haggar’s medling. “I said I didn’t remember the others. I never got those. But I remember being in those tanks. And...” He scrambles for more of the disjointed flashes from his first moments. “Being strapped down on a table. Galra in masks.”

Quiet sits up straighter, turning to face Ryou too. That strange emotion brightens until Ryou can finally identify it.

Hope.

Guilt catches Ryou around the throat. What is he doing?

“Oh,” Quiet breathes. “Then why didn’t the lab bother you?”

Ryou shrugs. His heart pounds. Half of him wants to back off, and half of him doesn’t. Here are his answers, and technically he hasn’t lied. “It never felt real. It was so disorienting. I wrote it off like a bad dream. I’ve had nightmares that are mixed up versions of Takashi’s before.”

That seems to make sense to Quiet. He nods and slumps against the couch, eyes closed. “I can understand that. Disorienting is a good word.” He rubs over his face with the natural hand. “I didn’t want to believe it either. I told myself it was just a dream, but it kept coming. Until I saw the whole thing and...” He trails off, voice thick.

Ryou’s heart cracks. This isn’t worth it. He slides over and holds his hand over Quiet’s shoulder, hovering. He won’t go further, not without awareness and permission. “Hey,” he says, very gentle.

Quiet blinks his eyes open and starts to see Ryou so much closer. But he nods, so Ryou puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. To his surprise, Quiet leans into the touch.

The urge to hug Quiet is powerful. But they don’t have that kind of relationship. A punch to the shoulder here, and elbow there. Maybe a squeeze just for a second. Ryou wants desperately to hold Quiet like he would with Takashi. But he’s done enough. Quiet probably wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

“How much of the memory did you get?” Quiet asks, looking up at him. There aren’t tears in his eyes, just a bone-deep sadness. “If you thought it was a bad dream, you must have only remembered not having Shiro’s memories. Not the rest of the dream.”

Ryou freezes.

Not having Shiro’s... 

How could he dream of a time before Shiro’s memories? That was Haggar’s plan. Made the clone, dumped in the memories, fixed up his appearance and shoved him out to play like he was Takashi.

If Quiet remembers a time before he had those memories, then he remembers a time before Ryou Shirogane. That implies there were thoughts to be had, experiences to go through.

It implies that there was a mind before Takashi Shirogane’s was put inside his head. There was some _ one _ before him, before those memories were dumped on top and overrode their mind like a hard drive.

Before Ryou had stolen Takashi’s life and his memories and his friendships, he’d stolen someone’s body.

A shudder jolts through him. A shiver of pure, instinctive revulsion. 

Nothing was his. Not even this body. Not even his brain. It was all stolen, piecemeal turned into a disjointed patchwork monster.

“Ryou?” Quiet’s brows come together, and horror spreads over his expression. 

Well, isn’t that nice? They match.

“Ryou, you said you remembered. Tell me you— Ryou?”

Ryou curls in on himself, fingers gripping at his hair. The pain isn’t enough to stop the tide of understanding. No wonder Quiet had been so upset. He’d remembered another mind in Haggar’s lab. Ryou doesn’t need to be a genius to know whatever came after was horribly cruel.

That consciousness had come into being, been tortured and confined, and then snuffed out by Ryou.

He’d killed them.

“Ryou!” Distantly, Ryou is aware of Quiet hovering just inches away. He isn’t touching. “Ryou, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I never would have said—”

Ryou barks out a dark, unhinged laugh. “So I’d have never known. I wouldn’t know that there was... that I stole their body...”

It’s too much. It’s exactly what he deserves for pushing, but it’s  _ too much. _

Ryou surges to his feet. Quiet jolts back instinctively, pressed against the couch. A moment later he catches himself and reaches out.

But he’s too slow. Ryou turns away, takes two big steps and ignores the resulting tug.

Then he swings, as hard as he can, and punches the wall with his left hand.

Whatever the hotel is made of, it’s sturdy stuff. The impact jolts up his arm in a blaze of pain. But like pulling his hair, Ryou welcomes it. It feels real, in counterpart to his spinning thoughts.

There’s complete silence behind him. Ryou doesn’t know if Quiet is disturbed by the violence or angry at his reaction. He doesn’t look to find out. Instead, he presses his forehead to the cool, mint green walls and breathes.

“I’m sorry.”

Ryou’s eyes snap open. He turns around to stare incredulously at Quiet. He stands at the edge of their tether, arms crossed over his stomach, shoulders slumped in.

Guilt.

“For what?” Ryou leans against the wall and works his hand. The knuckles are bruised to hell, and he can tell they’re bleeding. It doesn’t feel broken at least. “I wanted to be told. I said I remembered.”

“I should have known better,” Quiet says. His eyes flicker to Ryou’s hand, but he doesn’t say anything either. “I knew you wanted to know. I should have asked for details. It was stupid.”

“You wanted someone to talk to.” Ryou only smiles when Quiet gives him a startled look. “I get it. And I’m sorry. I was the one doing the pushing.” He takes a deep breath. “So tell me.”

Quiet’s eyes go wide. He gestures wordlessly to the spot Ryou had just punched.

Ryou meets his gaze, unflinching. “No, I don’t fucking like it. I don’t like knowing there was someone...” His voice cuts off, throat too thick. “I hate knowing nothing about me is original. But I know now, and I’m not going to un-remember. I’m going to think about it. So I might as well know the truth.”

There’s a long pause as Quiet considers him. “There is something original. That mind wasn’t Shiro’s. He survived everything  _ she _ did… without  _ anything _ from Shiro. He’s you too, just from before.”

Ryou stares, chest cold. Quiet can say that, but Ryou doesn’t believe it. So much of what makes him Ryou was made in reaction to Takashi. What’s different about him is built, not innate. Whoever that other mind was, it’s gone. Ryou has nothing left of it.

He says nothing.

Finally Quiet sighs his eyes. “Will you at least sit down and promise not to punch any more walls?”

“Only the ones that have it coming.” Ryou plasters on a grin, but neither of them acknowledge it. He sits back down, still refusing to look at his hand. “Start at the beginning?”

Quiet swallows. “First, what do you know about how we were made? Or, I suppose you, since...”

“Since I’m a shitty clone?” Ryou makes a face. “More than I did before. There was... we found somewhere. I don’t know if it was the original place we were made, or just a storage facility. It was abandoned when Zarkon was killed.”

Quiet goes so still he could have been made of marble. His left hand trembles in his lap until he clenches it. “Where...?”

“Don’t bother.” Ryou crosses his arm, fighting off his own chill. “It was a trap. None of them could have lived. Even if we could have figured something out, the place was rigged. It was designed to break apart and kill anyone there faster than any of them could have been freed.”

A sickly pallor climbs over Quiet’s face. “That sounds like her,” he says. He doesn’t need to elaborate on who he means.

“Yeah.” Ryou sighs. “So we saw the state of some of them. The ones she saved were for...” He trails off, seeing the understanding in Quiet’s eyes.

The only person who would. The team had been horrified, afraid, disgusted. Takashi in particular had felt violated. But they couldn’t understand what it meant to be  _ built _ from that.

Quiet did.

Just the two of them in multiple universes. It’s somehow both comforting and lonely.

“Some of them were probably special for my universe. They were drained of quintessence. Sucked out of them, because I’m too weak for Black. You didn’t have that problem.”

Quiet winces. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “I knew what happened when they were decommissioned or imperfect. She might have. I wouldn't put it past her.” Disgust and anger flash past his eyes.

Ryou inclines his head. He wouldn’t either. “That’s what I know. The rest is just vague flashes. The tank, being strapped down.”

Pausing, Quiet’s eyes narrow. His gaze flickers over Ryou as the previous deception hits home. But he clearly decides not to pursue that, because he continues. “I started to have dreams. I don’t know if the failsafe knocked it loose, or if it just happened to bubble up.”

Ryou nods. He tucks his knees against his chest and watches Quiet with rapt, silent attention.

“I dreamed about being held down. I didn’t understand anything that was happening. They were talking, and I knew their tone was angry. They didn’t like the screaming, but I didn’t understand I was making it. They hurt me, and I didn’t like that. Nothing more complex. Just that it felt bad and I didn’t like it.” He shook his head, darkly rueful. “It wasn’t until toward the end I realized what was happening. They were making sure I was identical. There was a glowing tool that they used to...” He trailed off and tapped his nose, where they both had identical scars.

Ryou’s fingers brush over the same spot, his stomach turning. “All of them? Or just that one.”

“All of them.”

Ryou’s heart clenches. He was spared that, at least. They’d only bothered with the most obvious scar. Enough that if he saw his reflection in the few hours he was supposed to live, he wouldn’t be completely confused.

“They couldn’t use sedatives,” Quiet continues on. His voice is low. Someone eavesdropping would think he was calm. “It affected another chemical for the memory transfer process. They talked about it. Another clone got that far, and then the two reacted badly. It ruined their brain.”

Just like that, braindead. Just another step in getting the cloning process right. Someone like them, a brother more literally than even Takashi. Tossed away so they could try again.

And it meant Quiet remembers being cut open. Or, rather, that confused, original mind had. No knowledge of the world except for torture.

“They had to go slow. The other scars just needed to be close. The one on the face needed to be perfect, or everyone would know.”

Fuck.

Quiet closes his eyes. He sits there, still. His face is lined with stress and pain. He makes no noise, no fuss. 

On a whim, Ryou reaches out. He wraps his fingers around Quiet’s wrist and holds on, just shy of hard enough to bruise. When he looks up, Ryou meets his gaze.

“I understand.”

Quiet’s eyes snap open and meet Ryou’s. That light from before grows there again. No longer hope, but understanding.

They are not alone. They know how this feels. Maybe no one else does, but they are  _ not alone. _

They sit in silence. There aren’t words for what they’ve been through, or what Quiet remembers. There aren’t platitudes for ‘sorry you replaced a newborn mind’ or ‘sucks that you had your face cut open and someone’s memories dumped into your brain’.

They both are. They’re both here. It’s enough.

Slowly, quietly, Ryou leans to the side. Their shoulders meet, pressed warm and firmly together.

Quiet doesn’t move away. He doesn’t pull his wrist away either.

For once, it’s Quiet who breaks the silence. “About that facility...” His voice is thick, the words slow as if he’s forcing them out one by one.

“No.”

Quiet frowns at the wall, but doesn’t turn and break the moment. “I told you about my memories. You  _ tricked _ me into telling you.” His objection has no heat, like an obligation.

“All the more reason to not subject you to that.” When Quiet’s face clouds with that familiar temper, Ryou snorts. “I’m not coddling you. It was pointless torture. It was  _ designed _ to be torture. They’re all dead, and all you’ll accomplish is playing into her hand and subjecting the team to that horror. Don’t put them through that. Especially not Shiro.” 

Quiet’s lips press thin but he doesn’t argue. If anything, he relaxes further after.

Neither of them pull away.

It’s more than enough.


	4. Chapter 4

For the while, the two of them sit in silence, leaning against each other. Quiet doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ryou so  _ still,  _ though admittedly he doesn’t have a ton of experience with his counterpart. Normally he’d expect fidgeting, messing around with things, any kind of movement he can get. 

Then again, there was a lot for the two of them to process, and maybe that was enough to slow even Ryou down. It had taken a lot for Quiet to come to terms with the things he’d just told Ryou, after all. And every time his brain divulges a new memory, it takes a whole new round of conversations with Shiro and new struggles to accept it for what it was. And he’d just dumped all of that on Ryou all at once. 

Even if Ryou had asked for it, he still feels pretty bad about how it had turned out. He was tricked into talking, and he’s still frustrated by that, but even so. He should’ve thought more about what he’d said before he’d said it. He shouldn’t have banked on Ryou refusing to tell  _ his  _ predecessor about the arena holding him to the same standard when  _ he  _ didn’t have the memories.

Ryou might not have the actual memories to go along with the information, and in that regard, Quiet is nothing but relieved for him. They aren’t pleasant things to remember, and less so when that mind revealing its memories has no way to understand what’s happening. It’s confusing and painful. Quiet hopes Ryou never truly experiences them on his own.

But even so, just the knowledge alone is heavy. And it obviously had taken its toll on Ryou. Quiet hadn’t expected him to violently strike at the wall, or to treat  _ himself  _ with such disgust. He hadn’t been receptive to Quiet’s counter argument, and Quiet wasn’t about to push it at the time; emotions had been riding too high. But he doesn’t like the way Ryou had responded to the information, like he was some kind of thief or murderer. 

Maybe he can bring it up later. Once they’ve both had a chance to cool down, anyway.

As for Quiet, he feels better now, at least in some respects. It was still foolish of him to react so unexpectedly to what  _ had  _ been a laughably over the top ‘haunted’ house. In hindsight, it had just looked like a goofy mad scientist’s lab. He feels bad about breaking the Elysian equipment and causing a scene in front of total strangers, and for panicking in front of Ryou and kicking off the entire fiasco. And losing Coran, although it’s stupid he feels bad over losing the toy that had been so obnoxious all afternoon.

In other ways he feels worse. They’d discovered a cloning facility in Ryou’s reality. Ryou had insisted it was a trap, with pointless torture and nothing to gain by going there. He’d refused to tell him the coordinates, and maybe he’s right. If  _ anyone  _ could make that call, it would be Ryou, the only other being in two realities combined who would understand. 

At the same time, Quiet feels like he  _ should  _ pester Ryou further about it, the same way Ryou had manipulated him into talking about his own memories. It’s hypocritical of Ryou to demand answers for his own sake, and then refuse to give answers when the tables are turned. 

After all, if there’s an active cloning facility in his own reality, he should find it, shouldn’t he? As the only surviving, fully conscious clone, it should be his  _ job  _ to speak for the ones who can’t for themselves, because they’re locked in tubes, or have disabilities or damaged organs, or minds too young to understand what had happened to them. It would be the responsible thing to do. 

And yet Quiet’s never been so terrified of actually knowing the answer. If Ryou  _ did  _ tell him the coordinates, he’d have to go. He’d feel obligated. And he knows he could never step foot in that place. He’d freeze. He’d panic. He wouldn’t be able to force himself to enter, not with all the willpower in the known universe. 

So he’s relieved when Ryou refuses to tell him, and even if it would be the responsible,  _ right  _ thing to get the information anyway, he doesn’t. And how terrible a coward does that make him? Those clones will be trapped in those tanks for the rest of their lives. They’ll never know the outside world, and never be allowed to die short of a power malfunction in the life support systems, and that’ll be completely on him and his cowardice. 

It’s a humbling thought.

“I don’t know about you,” Ryou says unexpectedly, nearly causing Quiet to jump in surprise, “but I can’t keep sitting here and brooding. Quiet might be your style, but it’s not mine.”

Quiet doesn’t move away from where he’s leaning against Ryou’s shoulder, but he does turn his head to glare. “Really? Quiet jokes, now?”

“Best time for them,” Ryou says unashamedly. “Now you’re not stewing, you’re being annoyed with me. I  _ told  _ you I was good at being distracting.”

Quiet opens his mouth to argue, and snaps it closed almost immediately. He actually has a fair point. The ‘quiet’ jokes are old and annoying, and he definitely did  _ not  _ miss them after the Vogn incident. But they’re a weird kind of normal for Ryou, and definitely not...everything they’d just had to talk through. 

“I wasn’t stewing,” he argues, although it comes out far more petulant than he’d intended.

“You  _ literally  _ wear the same face as Takashi when  _ he’s  _ stewing,” Ryou says. “I am an expert. I can tell.” 

Quiet grumbles. “That’s not fair.” 

Ryou smirks at him for a moment, before saying, “I think you mentioned getting dinner soon, after the water rides.” Quiet’s actually impressed with the level of tact used in avoiding mentioning the haunted house entirely; Ryou has never struck him as much of a diplomat. “I could  _ definitely  _ eat now. Want to try room service, and maybe giving that weird TV a shot? I bet they have shows from every dimension.” He gestures in the direction of the suite’s enormous holoscreen. 

That might actually be fun for later, but…

“Nope,” Quiet says. “We’re going out for dinner. If we’re gonna be stuck here, we may as well enjoy something to eat at one of the nice restaurants.” There had been a whole two streets in the park  _ dedicated  _ to dining establishments that weren’t vendor carts and snack stands, and he wants to check them out. 

Ryou makes a bit of a face for a moment, glancing at the holoscreen. He was either interested in seeing what kinds of things they’d have to show on Elysian resort television, or he was interested in figuring out how the odd crystal-mounted remote worked. 

But after a moment he shrugs. “Alright. Doesn’t make much of a difference to me either way. I guess it’d be nice to get out of the room for a little bit.”

Right. No sense of taste. Quiet supposes as far as he’s concerned, it really  _ doesn’t  _ matter where he eats.

Quiet actually has to work to suppress his smile, but he’s rewarded for his efforts; he doesn’t think Ryou noticed. That’s about to change, tonight. He hopes, anyway.

“Do you want to get that looked at before we go?” Quiet asks, pointing at Ryou’s left arm. 

Ryou blinks, and glances down at his natural hand. The slow trickle of blood seems to have halted — or at least, he hasn’t bled all over the upholstery during the rest of their conversation — but it still looks messy and painful. 

“I guess,” he concedes after a moment. “The resort guys will probably freak out if I don’t. They don’t seem to like it if people are unhappy or hurting in any way.”

Quiet hums in agreement. He’s met a lot of aliens in his time with Voltron, but Elysians are just  _ weird.  _

Fortunately, a quick exploratory check of their suite turns up a well stocked first aid kit in the bathroom. It has a dozen things for other kinds of aliens Quiet can’t even begin to identify, but they do find bandages and antiseptic. Quiet helps Ryou clean and wrap it, since treating a hand is difficult to do with only one. Thankfully, the bones aren’t broken, so it doesn’t take more than that. They’re done in less than five doboshes, and from there, it doesn’t take them long to leave the hotel and head out on the search for dinner.

The restaurant ‘district’ of the park is a relaxing stroll from the hotel, and has at least fifty popular styles of cuisine from multiple universes. Even Quiet, having done a number of diplomatic missions with various cultures,  _ and  _ having trained in culinary arts with Hunk, only knows maybe twenty of them. But even with that limited selection, he can tell Elysium is trying to appeal to as many different cultures and tastes and food presentations as possible, to make sure everyone has something they’re comfortable with while there.

Under normal circumstances, Quiet would be willing to stroll into one of the restaurants he knows nothing about to give their cuisine a shot. He’s learned to have a fine appreciation for foods of all kinds, and he’s always ready to try something new. Everything is free here, so there wouldn’t be any point in  _ not  _ trying something new, really.

But while he and Ryou had been looking at the brochure earlier, he’d browsed through the list of restaurants and cuisine styles, and had been delightfully surprised to find Ssothesse dining on the pamphlet. With Ryou here, there’s no other option for dinner. Especially not after he’d carefully dug for further information about exactly how Ryou’s lack of taste worked. 

“Smells nice,” Ryou says, as they reach the streets, taking an appreciative sniff.

It really does. The smells of cooking meat and vegetables, fresh baked pastries, and decadent desserts is enough to start Quiet’s mouth watering even as they walk. Any number of scents call to them, encouraging entry into their particular establishments, but Quiet keeps unerringly focused on his goal. 

“Someplace particular in mind?” Ryou asks, raising an eyebrow as he walks alongside Quiet. His hands are in his pockets while he looks around, appreciative but not particularly enthusiastic. Since he can’t taste anything he’s smelling, Quiet can understand why; it’s hard to get excited about something you can’t really experience. “That place smelled good. And that one. And that one. I notice you’re still walking, though. I’m sure we can eat at any of these.”

“We could, but the pamphlet said they have Ssothesse food,” Quiet says, affecting a casual glance in Ryou’s direction.

“Cool,” Ryou says absently. “Whatever works for you.”

He really doesn’t know about Ssothesse dining, then. This will certainly be interesting. Quiet’s looking forward to the reaction almost more than the food, although Ssothesse cuisine is tasty in its own way. 

He finds the restaurant after a few more doboshes and leads them in. It’s an odd combination of sleek modernity and quaint homestyle, but that’s how the Ssothes are; innovators of creativity and technology, while highly inspired by and respectful of their roots. 

The restaurants seem to be the only places not manned by Elysians in the entire park, to judge from the Ssothes lady waiting for them by the door. That actually makes sense, though. You’d want experts who know how to cook and manage their own cuisine, if you wanted top quality cultural food at your establishment. 

“Good evening,” the Ssothes woman greets them. She’s tall and slender, with grayish, wrinkly skin like an elephant, and a long, thin fused nose and jaw like an anteater. “Welcome! A table for two? Have you enjoyed Ssothesse cuisine before?” 

_ “De sathar,”  _ Quiet greets, with a quick head bow customary to Ssothes. “I’ve visited before.”

The woman claps her many-jointed, seven-fingered hands together in delight. “ _ De sathar yas!”  _ she greets back politely, and then less formally, “You’ve been to Ssothes in one of the dimensions, I see!”

“As a visiting diplomat,” Quiet acknowledges. “I enjoyed the trip. I wanted my friend here to try your  _ ssenser  _ dishes, too.” He waves a hand at Ryou, who looks bemused, but is thankfully smart enough to not interrupt.

If the host is at all confused by Quiet’s ‘friend’ being almost exactly identical to him, outside of the differences in hair color, she doesn’t say anything. Her long ears flick up happily as she says, “Of course, of course! I am so happy to hear you enjoyed my homeworld. I have an excellent seat on the patio, if you’d like? The sunset is scheduled to begin in half a varga, and it’s a wonderful view.”

“That sounds great, thank you,” Quiet says with a smile. The woman beams, collects their menus, and leads them to their seat.

Once comfortably seated at their table on the back patio with an admittedly gorgeous view of the beach, Ryou raises an eyebrow at him. “What was that?”

“Diplomacy,” Quiet says. “Ssothesse food isn’t as popular with some. It’s a bit niche for certain reasons. She was probably relieved to know she didn’t have to explain the menu or how the food works. Plus, it’s nice to see cultural things you’re familiar with, in the middle of all this tourism.”

“Fair enough,” Ryou concedes, and then, “Wait, niche? How the food works? We couldn’t just go out for burgers?”

“Nope,” Quiet says, reviewing the menu.

“This is what I get for reminding a Hunk-trained foodie about dinner.”

“You’re the one who brought us here,” Quiet points out. “This is really all your fault.”

Ryou grumbles.

Quiet orders the food and drinks for them, since Ryou has no idea what anything on the menu is and isn’t particularly enthusiastic about any of it. His only request is to ‘get me something crunchy,’ which Quiet dutifully does, while Ryou plays with the Ssothesse-style eating utensils. 

“This looks like a claw from one of those arcade games we passed earlier,” he says finally. “What  _ is  _ this food we’re eating, exactly?”

He’s actually not entirely off the mark with that. There are sporks and a few other kinds of standard tableware in the stand off to one side if needed. But their places have been set with traditional Ssothesse dining tongs, which  _ do  _ sort of look like a combination between a three fingered claw and a long set of tweezers. 

“We actually don’t have enough fingers or joints to use them right,” Quiet says. “But I’ve found they work pretty well if you use them like chopsticks. The dignitaries didn’t seem to be offended by that, so it must’ve been fine.” He demonstrates, deftly picking up one of the cloth napkins with the three claws as he maneuvers them together.

“Oh. That’s not so bad.” Ryou tries it out, and picks up the technique fairly quickly. Then, casually, he says, “You’re left handed.”

Quiet blinks, and glances down at the dining tongs in his left hand. “Yeah?”

“Is Shiro?” Ryou asks, with a genuinely curious expression on his face.

_ Oh.  _ “No, he’s right handed,” Quiet says. “I mean, he’s gotten better at using his left for a few things, since, y’know. Robot arm. It doesn’t always do ‘subtle’ well.’” 

“Same with Takashi. Me too, for that matter,” Ryou admits. Then he cocks his head curiously and gestures with the dining tongs at Quiet’s left arm. “So, y’know,  _ that’s  _ a big different thing too. Just sayin’.” 

Quiet shrugs. “I mean, it’s not  _ that  _ big. And it came out of necessity more than me trying to be different. After I got sick, I had to relearn most kinds of coordination. Walking, writing, all that kind of stuff. I didn’t have a right arm at the time, since the Galra one got removed when I was sick, and I didn’t have this one yet.” He taps his Olkari arm. “So my options were limited.”

Ryou’s brows raise. “Oh. Is that the reason for the, you know...” He mimes his own arm being twisted behind his back.

Quiet snorts. “The  _ youur-jun  _ move I used on you when we first met? Yeah. I had to re-learn to fight, too, and since I had to start from square one,  _ everyone  _ wanted to train me in all kinds of basics. I re-learned some of Shiro’s styles, but I also learned Allura’s Altean combat style, and Keith showed me some of his moves. Even got a crash course in Marmoran knife-fighting.” 

Ryou whistles. “That’s pretty cool,” he says.

“It’s useful,” Quiet admits. “People expect me to fight like Shiro, and then I don’t. It comes in handy when people are targeting Shiro and come across me instead.” 

For some reason, that sends a flicker of _something_ through Ryou’s expression that’s gone too fast for Quiet to identify. Dread? Alarm? Shame? It’s hard to say. Ryou’s expressions aren’t always identical to Shiro’s, and Quiet can never get as good a read on him as he’d like. 

But before he can ask if Ryou’s okay, their food arrives, ending the conversation.

The two Ssothes servers trundle over to them with several wide trays of food, which they happily set down on the table with strangely elongated smiles. One tray is full of deep bowls of various oils and sauces, including one bowl nestled into a special device that keeps it bubbling hot. A second has more shallow bowls full of dry powders and coatings. The last is full of several plates, each bearing ten or so rounded balls or rolls of different kinds of meats, vegetables, or mixes of the two. Last come their drinks, which one of the servers sets in front of them gently, before both pull back and bow once. 

_ “Faras seta,” _ one of the servers says. “Enjoy your meal!”

_ “Kenna sen yanna,” _ Quiet answers. These servers seem just as delighted to be responded to with the appropriate traditional phrases, and their smiles grow brighter as they leave.

“What was that last part?” Ryou asks, curious.

“It’s more or less ‘thank you for your service,’” Quiet says. “Servants are treated very respectfully in Ssothesse culture. Everyone knows they’re screwed without them. I figured, best be polite.”

“I’ll say,” Ryou says. “Speaking other languages now?”

“Hardly,” Quiet says, amused. “But I learn enough to not be rude when going on diplomatic missions, especially if we’re trying to get them to join the Voltron Coalition. Anyway, let’s eat, I’m famished.”

Ryou looks down at the three trays heaped with plates and bowls. “I can tell. You got a  _ lot.  _ Geez, if you were that hungry we could’ve stopped for real food earlier.” 

But Quiet only laughs at that and shakes his head. “Nah. This is a  _ ssenser  _ buffet. All of this works together, but you don’t eat all of it.”

Ryou shrugs. “Well, it  _ smells  _ nice,” he says cautiously, glancing around at the different plates and bowls. 

That’s an understatement if there ever was one. The foods on the table have all kinds of scents, from delicate sweetness to aggressive spiciness, but above all those scents are powerful. Not uncomfortably so, though, and despite the strong mix of smells, none of them vie for competition. Instead the scents work in harmony, working up the appetite. 

The meal  _ looks  _ pretty too. Everything has an interesting array of colors, both pastel and vibrant, and the plates and bowls have all been arranged so that their colors work in harmony without clashing. It’s almost too pretty to eat. The whole thing is a delight for all the senses, which is exactly the point of a  _ ssenser  _ buffet. 

“The idea behind it is that you build your own meal based on combinations of scent and texture,” Quiet explains, while Ryou watches with a mix of curiosity and dubiousness. He clearly doesn’t get just yet why Quiet’s pushing what must seem like such an exotic meal on  _ him _ . “Like this.” 

He demonstrates by using his dining tongs to pluck a piece of freshly cooked ketirr—approximately the same as chicken—and dunking it quickly in one of the provided sauces. He then deftly rolls that in one of the bread crumb coatings, until it’s completely covered, breathes in the resulting scent quickly, and pops the whole thing in his mouth. The resulting mix of sweet from the sauce, spicy from the coating, and smooth saltiness from the meat is incredibly satisfying, and the textures roll over the tongue in a comfortable combination. 

Ryou shrugs, and dutifully tries it out, plucking one of the meats and dunking it in one of the sauces that must appeal him the most. He picks the crunchiest coating, unsurprisingly, before taking a cautious whiff of the whole thing and popping it in his mouth.

Quiet holds his breath, and waits for the reaction.

It’s not long in coming. For a moment Ryou chews mechanically, out of sheer habit. But then his eyes widen, and he slows down, savoring the food a little more with obvious bewilderment. 

Quiet grins. So it  _ had  _ worked, then.

Ryou swallows his bite, and fixes Quiet with a bewildered, but not unhappy, stare. “What the heck  _ was  _ that?” he asks, incredulous.

“Did it work?” Quiet asks, although he already knows the answer. “What happened?”

“It’s like…” Ryou licks his lips, as though savoring an aftertaste, even though there isn’t one. “I didn’t taste anything, but I  _ almost  _ felt like I did. That’s like...that’s the closest I’ve come to tasting something in...in  _ ever.”  _ He stares down at the trays of food, then back to Quiet. “You knew! You knew this was going to happen! How come you didn’t say anything?”

Quiet smiles. “I had a feeling, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, just in case. Plus, I kind of wanted to see your reaction.”

“You  _ tricked  _ me,” Ryou says, although he’s grinning all the same.

“You started it,” Quiet says mildly. 

“Fair,” Ryou concedes. “But really—what the heck  _ is  _ this, and how come I can almost taste it, even if my brain isn’t wired to taste?”

“Because it’s not food for tasting,” Quiet says. “Ssothes actually only have about a sixteenth of the tastebuds we do, so their sense of taste is very limited. But they still need to eat, and they like to appreciate a meal and do everything as artistically and creatively as possible. Their dining style is all about presentation, scent, and texture—not tasting.”

Ryou’s jaw actually drops for a moment, before he says, “That’s why you picked  _ here?  _ Instead of any of the other places? For  _ me?”  _ He actually has the grace to look guilty for about thirty seconds—probably because of manipulating Quiet earlier—before he asks, “How the heck did you even know about this?”

Quiet grins, as he starts assembling a second mouthful, this time with one of the cooked vegetables. “About a feeb after the Vogn thing, I had a diplomatic mission with the Ssothes. They’re very creative and technologically advanced people, but they’re not really warriors. They wanted to broker a deal with the Coalition—protection for tech. I was in charge of the arrangements.” 

He shrugs as he covers his vegetable roll in a fine, sweet dry coating. “I had to practice formal dining for at least a week with Allura before I went, but actually experiencing it was another thing entirely. Honestly, I thought of you right away, but all I could do was hope you guys came across them one day. Not like I could give you a hot cuisine tip in another reality.”

Ryou’s eyes are bright as he looks around at all the food in front of him. “No kidding.  _ Wow.  _ Hunk would love all this.”

“He does in my reality,” Quiet says. “I’ll give you the coordinates to the planet. They can probably use Voltron’s help, if they’re anything like the ones in my reality, and your Hunk can learn how to make these meals.” 

Ryou looks gleeful at the thought.

Dinner after that is a genuinely enjoyable affair. Ryou enthusiastically tries everything, creating a variety of combos for rolls, sauces and coatings. Quiet shows him a few excellent combinations for maximum culinary excellence, as well as a few advanced tips, like boiling some items in the hot oil provided first to release additional scents and flavors. Ryou also experiments with combinations that make Quiet internally wince, but Ryou is so excited about giving  _ everything  _ a shot that Quiet lets it pass. If it makes him happy, Quiet really can’t argue.

Ryou also has a million questions throughout the entire meal as they eat, mostly about Ssothes culture and how they’d developed such an unusual eating style. Quiet answers what he can, although he’s hardly an expert. Spending a spicolian movement or two on the planet doesn’t make him extremely knowledgeable about its culinary history, but he tries. 

He has other questions too, though. “That’s the kind of stuff you do?” Ryou asks, at one point, as he tries coating his vegetable roll in not one but two different powders. “I know you mentioned being a diplomat, but I didn’t realize it was like that.”

Quiet shrugs. “It seemed like something I could do to chip in and help, especially back in the beginning,” he admits. He doesn’t really have to clarify what the ‘beginning’ is with Ryou, thankfully. His counterpart would know just as intimately what it felt like to be redundant in a world where a better version of you existed. “Allura and Shiro were always busy with  _ everything _ —the fights, coordinating attacks, getting intel—and on top of that they were trying to manage the Coalition. I figured, I still had Shiro’s ability to inspire a crowd, it was something I could do to help, and it would take some weight off his shoulders. So.” He shrugs. 

“How do you like it?” Ryou asks. 

“It’s not bad,” Quiet says. “Not every mission is fine dining and formal wear, and some people are pains in the asses to deal with. But mostly it’s interesting to meet different cultures and find out ways Voltron can help them. It feels...rewarding, I guess.”

Ryou nods in understanding as he enjoys the scent of his latest creation, before cramming it into his mouth. He makes an appreciative noise in the back of his throat as he chews. After he’s swallowed, he picks up the conversation like there was no interruption. “I get that. I mean, I don’t get the diplomacy thing, never tried it.”

“I can tell,” Quiet says dryly, but he’s smiling as he does.

Ryou flicks one of the crunchy bits from a nearby bowl at him as he sticks out his tongue, then continues. “But I picked up a bunch of stuff with machines and tech, and that’s been pretty great too. Pidge and Hunk get breaks sometimes when it’s not  _ all  _ riding on them. Plus it’s fun to build robots and take things apart.”

“Another tech person would definitely be useful,” Quiet agrees. A part of his brain that is still  _ very  _ much Shiro and probably always will be already jumps into high gear, analyzing the usefulness of somebody with additional technical experience in missions and the effect on the team. 

That evolves into a surprisingly entertaining conversation. They don’t have a lot in common, but chatting over the ways they  _ did  _ manage to carve out a niche that suited them is interesting. They both approached it in vastly different ways, but they’d managed in the end. 

More than a varga and a half later, they finally finish up with dinner. Quiet is comfortably full, and feels much better than he had since they left the hotel suite. The sunset had been pretty, and the now-night sky is full of brilliant stars that look nothing like the constellations he remembers but are gorgeous all the same. He wonders if they’re real, and then wonders if it even matters. 

They make their exit after ‘paying’ the bill with their all-expenses-paid bracelets, leaving an extra large tip for the delighted staff. Ryou even takes the opportunity to thank the servers the same way Quiet had, after asking for a crash course on polite mannerisms, since he’d enjoyed the food so much. 

“Thanks for that,” Ryou says abruptly, as they take a casual stroll back towards the hotel. It might be dark, but everything is lit with colored lamps and bright strings of lights, and the whole place still feels cozy and alive.

“Hm?”

“That restaurant,” Ryou says. “I know I’ve done a lot of stuff to piss you off today. Dragging you here, and...other stuff. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Everyone should be able to enjoy food,” Quiet says, affronted at even the  _ suggestion  _ that he might have kept that from Ryou just to be petty. The man can’t  _ taste.  _ Even the illusion of it is better than nothing, and he deserves that much. It’s sure as hell not  _ his  _ fault that Haggar screwed up his brain. 

“Alright,  _ Hunk,”  _ Ryou says, but he’s grinning. “But for real. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Quiet says, feeling absurdly pleased with himself. If nothing else came out of this unexpected trip, at least there was this little knowledge handoff. 

It feels like things should end on a relaxed note from there. And yet Quiet is a little surprised that his counterpart grows, well,  _ quiet,  _ on the remainder of the walk home. For someone who supposedly doesn’t like brooding, he sure seems to be falling into doing exactly that. By the time they reach the foyer, there’s a frown line furrowed between his brows, and the Elysian on duty at the front desk sinks a fraction in the air as they pass them. 

Stepping through the portal to their personal suite doesn’t seem to change matters any. Ryou’s still frowning to himself, and almost walks off in the direction of the bedroom again before being pulled to a halt by their interdimensional tether. 

“Did you forget again?” Quiet asks incredulously.

“Um,” is Ryou’s answer. He backs up, back into range, and gives Quiet a distracted glance. “Maybe?”

Quiet frowns. “Okay. Something wrong? I figured dinner would’ve made you happy.”

“No, that was great!” Ryou insists quickly, and that part does seem to be true. “Really. It’s just, it kind of reminded me how much I owe you for this whole mess, and…” He sighs, but must decide to dive right into _whatever’s_ going on in his head, because he finishes in a rush, “I’ve got something I need to tell you.”

Quiet can tell just from those words alone that whatever this leads to is going to be heavy, and that his counterpart really isn’t looking forward to it. “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” he says, cautious. “If you want to rest first, or relax. Today’s been crazy.”

“It’s about Terkon.”

There’s steel in Ryou’s voice as he speaks. And yet there’s something brittle about it too, like he’s fighting his hardest to hold back on some other kind of emotion. 

If it was vindictiveness, or dark satisfaction, Quiet doesn’t think for a second Ryou would bother to hold that back. He’d seen how Ryou handled the Vogn leader who had tormented Takashi and Shiro. If it was protectiveness and cosmic justice, Ryou would embrace that wholeheartedly, and he wouldn’t have any reason to hide it from Quiet. They were both in agreement that protecting their predecessors was paramount. 

Which can only mean something went wrong during whatever had happened with Terkon. 

“Oh,” Quiet says. “Do you want to sit for this?”

Ryou nods curtly. Without even thinking about it, they take the same seats they had before on the same couch, stepping over the piles of discarded clothes still left on the floor. 

“Okay,” Quiet says, once they’re settled. Ryou is clearly uncomfortable, based on his hunched posture and the way he grabs one of the pamphlets and starts tearing it into tiny pieces. He already looks like he regrets bringing anything up, and at the same time  _ really  _ wants to get it over and done with. So Quiet prompts, “Terkon. You found him in your reality?”

“Yeah.” It’s a quiet, stiff answer, like Ryou’s biting the words out.

“Did you kill him?” Quiet asks, eyes narrowed. He certainly hopes so; the bastard deserved to die in whatever malicious, vindictive way Ryou chose.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Quiet says, unrepentant. Then, more cautiously, “Did Shiro find out?”

Ryou freezes for a moment, before going back to shredding the pamphlet into little pieces. “Yes. Sort of. Not...not  _ during  _ the fight. But after.”

Quiet winces. Not  _ ideal,  _ but at least Terkon hadn’t shown up in the middle of a mission to cause Shiro grief. “But he didn’t get hurt by him, at least. That’s good.”

“Yeah. Sort of.” Ryou appears to be doing his best to not look in Quiet’s direction, or maybe pretend he doesn’t exist. “He did...hurt other people, though.”

“Huh?”

“It’s...I recruited Lance for help. But I fucked up. I didn’t plan anything right, and I froze up at just the wrong time, and Lance almost got killed. I got hit too, a little, but  _ Lance  _ almost got killed. When he was just trying to help me. And Shiro found out anyway, and everyone else was pissed, and…” He groans, closing his eyes. “I really,  _ really  _ screwed the whole thing up. I didn’t use your warning right at all.”

Quiet frowns. This is definitely the least put together he’s  _ ever  _ seen Ryou, and it’s disturbing him a little. But he’s pretty good at maintaining calm in the face of danger, and it’s not hard to apply that same method to unexpected distress situations. He keeps his voice and expression even, and says, “Okay...how about you start from the beginning? I’m a little confused here.”

It takes some careful prompting at first, and the occasional clarifying question, but he does eventually get the whole story from Ryou. The more he hears, the more his heart sinks. Ever since the warning Quiet had given Ryou, he’d been keeping an eye out for Terkon’s name on mission intel. The moment he’d realized they would come across Terkon on a mission, he’d manipulated the situation to put Shiro as far from the former prison warden as possible, while recruiting Lance for help on a secret assassination mission on the side. 

That part makes sense to Quiet. It’s all very logical. 

But everything that comes after isn’t. Ryou haltingly describes freezing up upon seeing Terkon face to face, beset by the exact same memories they’d hoped to protect their respective Shiros from. He describes other moments, when he was so wildly enraged by the suffering his ‘brother’ had gone through he’d attacked wildly, heedless of the danger or the plan he’d sketched out with Lance. Regardless of his emotions, rage or fear, he’d never once been in control of the fight. He’d been injured; Lance had nearly died. Terkon  _ had  _ been killed, but not with any semblance of a plan. Just pure luck and adrenaline-fueled desperation and fury.

“He left a scar,” Ryou says, gesturing to one side of his face. A light burn scar, barely noticeable, traces from temple to jaw. Quiet had noticed it earlier, but never would have thought it came from a fight against Terkon. Terkon’s marks tended to be more...memorable. 

Quiet wants to ask why he didn’t bother to get it healed in a pod. But Ryou is already moving on, and now that he’s actually talking through everything, Quiet isn’t stupid enough to interrupt him. 

Ryou explains the grizzly aftermath of the whole debacle, and that makes Quiet’s heart sink even further. The entire team had found out, including his Shiro. Takashi had been understandably furious. Allura had evaluated him for further eligibility on the team. Lance, Hunk, and pretty much everyone else had been legitimately concerned for his mental health, especially after witnessing how the whole mess had affected him in such a devastating way. 

By the end of the explanation, the pamphlet has been completely turned into confetti. Ryou fidgets awkwardly on the couch, staring in the direction of the fish tank, clearly still uncomfortable. And Quiet…

It takes Quiet a long moment to process everything Ryou says. When he finally does, there’s really only one thing he can say to  _ any  _ of that. “I’m so sorry. That’s my fault.”

Ryou seems genuinely surprised by that, based on the way his head jerks up and he looks over at Quiet for the first time in the whole conversation. “What? How is  _ any  _ of that your fault?”

“I shouldn’t have warned you about Terkon,” Quiet says. His stomach churns uncomfortably with guilt. “I didn’t think it through. Shit.”

Really, what the hell had he been expecting Ryou to do with the information that Terkon was still out there? That he’d collect a team to go hunt Terkon down, while conveniently leaving Takashi out of the loop? Ryou’s reaction to anything remotely antagonistic was to punch it, and Terkon falls solidly into that category. Of course he was going to deal with it how he saw fit—directly, and with as much cosmic justice as possible.

But Quiet had known by then Ryou didn’t have a failsafe, or if he did, he hadn’t experienced it yet. He doesn’t have the  _ distance  _ Quiet does to deal with those memories. Fighting Terkon hadn’t been easy, but Quiet’s mind had always been his own, and he’d always been fully in control of the battle. 

Ryou didn’t have that. Ryou would have been facing down identical circumstances as Takashi. Quiet had practically set Ryou up to die; he’s lucky it worked out, and that nobody had been killed in the process. 

What the hell had he been thinking? 

Ryou’s eyes narrow, and he turns to face Quiet more comfortably on the couch. “Why shouldn’t you have? It was important to protect Takashi. You  _ know _ how important that is.”

“I do,” Quiet says. Probably better than anyone besides Ryou himself. “But protecting him at your expense? Putting you through that kind of torment? It’s not worth that.”

“Of  _ course  _ it is. It’s  _ Takashi,”  _ Ryou snaps, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “You were absolutely right to warn me about that bastard. I fucked up everything about how to handle it, but the point is he’s still  _ dead,  _ and that’s what matters. He can never hurt Takashi ever again.”

“But he did hurt you,” Quiet says, voice soft. “Literally, even. You’ve got the mark.”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Ryou says. He gets up abruptly, shoving the coffee table away, and starts to pace restlessly. He can’t get very far because of the five foot link—three steps forward, three steps back—but moving seems to help him at least. “Look. It’s done. There’s nothing to apologize for. It was really bad, and I  _ really  _ fucked it up, but that’s on me. It’s done now and I still don’t regret that you told me.” 

He’s a better person than Quiet, in that regard. Looking back on it now, he’d probably been more than a little afraid when Quiet had warned him about Takashi’s—and by extension,  _ his— _ tormentor still alive out there in the world. He’d been brave enough to try to deal with it anyway. Meanwhile Quiet can’t even work up the nerve to drag the coordinates for that clone facility out of Ryou to deal with it on his own. He knows he couldn’t handle it. 

It’s never been more obvious how they are very, very different people at the core at that moment.

“Besides,” Ryou continues, still pacing, oblivious to the thoughts running through Quiet’s head, “It can’t be your fault. It’s not your fault you’re the better clone. Or that  _ she  _ sent me out with the illusion of Takashi’s PTSD because she couldn’t be bothered to set my brain up right. It’s not like you could have predicted that when you told me.” 

Quiet blinks. “The better clone?” he asks, bewildered.  _ “Me?  _ What does that have to do with any—” He pauses. Slowly, it clicks. “Wait. You don’t think—you can’t actually mean—”

Abruptly, he starts laughing.

It’s not a  _ happy  _ laugh. More of a humorless, slightly hysterical sound, as he leans against the armrest and curls over on himself. The  _ better clone.  _ He’d spent at least half of the Vogn debacle being jealous of Ryou for managing to be so different, and after all that,  _ he’s  _ the ‘better clone.’ What a joke.

It’s enough to get Ryou to stop pacing, and to say with growing worry, “Quiet? Or—Ryou? Are you—”

“Not panicking,” he manages to choke out through the weak laugh. “Quiet’s fine. Give me a sec.” It doesn’t take him long to wind down after that, as the seriousness of the situation cuts through the humorless irony. 

When he can actually talk properly again, he looks the concerned Ryou right in the eye, and says bluntly, “I’m not a ‘better clone.’ Not the way you’re thinking, at least.”

Ryou frowns. “Obviously you are. You’re  _ made  _ better, without any neurological screwups like me. You went way longer without being detected. You handled Terkon better than I did. You’re not freaking out like I did. You’re not acting like  _ anything  _ I told you is familiar. That’s  _ better.”  _

“I handled it, but because of very different circumstances.” He sighs. “Did you read anything from the files Shiro sent you guys about the failsafe?”

Ryou immediately looks away, obviously uncomfortable. “No,” he finally admits, as he starts pacing again. “Seemed kind of pointless. Everyone else knows how to recognize it, and you said I wouldn’t, so why torture myself?”

“And you didn’t want to,” Quiet adds. Ryou actually winces a little at that, and Quiet shakes his head. “It’s fine. I get it, really. I wouldn’t want to either if we were flipped.” He shrugs. “Remember at dinner when I said I had to relearn a ton of motor functions?”

“Yeah,” Ryou says slowly. “With the cool fighting.”

“Yes. Well, that wasn’t the only thing the failsafe wiped out. A lot of memories were affected, too.” Quiet taps his fingers once against his temple. “Some of them were basic things, like how to play games or names for things. Some of them were current memories that I made myself, while playing Shiro or being me. And some of them were Shiro’s.” 

Ryou goes still.  _ “All  _ of Shiro’s memories?”

“Anything could have been affected,” Quiet confirms. “Things he did after escaping. Things before that.” He shrugs again. “Some might still be just as real to me as before, but I haven’t come across one of those from the prison year yet. Some of those memories are gone forever. You could tell me about one our Shiros have in common and there’s a chance it’ll sound brand new to me, and nothing would be triggered. And then there are others, where I can remember exactly what happened, but…” 

He pauses, trying to consider how to explain it. Finally, he says, “Did you—or maybe Shiro, but you too—ever have a situation when you saw a news headline about a tragedy, and maybe it was terrible, and you felt bad for the people involved...but it’s on the other side of the world, so it’s not really  _ you?  _ It’s an awful thing, but you weren’t in it, so it doesn’t really  _ hurt?”  _

“Yes,” Ryou says slowly, after a long moment.

Quiet nods. “They’re like that. I know exactly what happened to Shiro in bloody detail. But it doesn’t feel like  _ me.  _ It’s not personal anymore—not in that sense. I can still be angry or hurt on Shiro’s behalf, but it’s the same as watching a news story about a tragedy he was in on the other side of the world. Not being there.” 

“I...get what you mean,” Ryou says. “For...some other things.” He looks like he’s about to say more for a moment, but thinks better of it. Or maybe, based on what comes next, his curiosity gets the better of him. “And...Terkon…?”

“Terkon is always like that for me,” Quiet says. “I know exactly what that bastard did to Shiro. I wanted him  _ dead  _ for that. I knew exactly how to play wounded bird just enough to hold his attention, so he wouldn’t target Shiro. But I had complete control of that fight.”

Quiet shakes his head. “But you didn’t _ have  _ that kind of distance. And I should have known better than that. Before I got hit by the failsafe, I  _ did  _ have Shiro’s exact same PTSD for the exact same circumstances. The only reason I don’t now is because of actual degenerative brain damage.”

He gives Ryou a weak smile. “So you can stand to be a little less hard on yourself about being a so-called ‘worse’ clone, because you aren’t. And it was wrong of me to assume you’d be okay if I put you in that situation, so I’m sorry.”

“That...that doesn’t make sense,” Ryou says, confused and frustrated. “PTSD isn’t something she’d  _ want  _ in her clones, right? All it would do is screw us up. Make us freeze up in the middle of whatever she wanted us to do. Like  _ I  _ did.”

“But it’s identical,” Quiet says. “For me, at least, that was exactly the point.” He doesn’t know Ryou’s circumstances, just that they were very different from Quiet’s own. “It’s probably a lot easier to magically copy and paste a mind as is anyway, rather than digging around to try and figure out what’s causing the issue and removing it. Adding mental conditioning to maneuver us where to go would have been complicated enough.”

“She didn’t even do that for me,” Ryou says. “In our reality, it was the arm suppressing and controlling everything.”

“Even less of a reason to dig around in your brain, then,” Quiet says, bitter. “It’s not as easy for either of us in the end...but when did she ever give a damn about our comfort? Neither of us were supposed to live that long.” 

Ryou snorts, but the noise is just as bitter from him. “Not wrong,” he says after a moment. “I just...hate it. All of it. They’re not my memories. They should be like you described. Not like  _ this.”  _ He returns to pacing. “I never should have frozen up like that. I should’ve been able to handle it, without putting Lance at risk, and without scaring everyone else about my mental health.”

“I get how it can feel that way,” Quiet says. He’d definitely had similar thoughts, in the past. “But they are your memories, too.”

“They’re Takashi’s,” Ryou argues, with a pointed look in Quiet’s direction. Considering how vehemently he’d reacted that one time Quiet suggested going by ‘Shiro’ in the Vogn world, Quiet is hardly surprised by the response. “I probably didn’t exist when he was in the arena. I’m guessing you didn’t, either. We didn’t  _ live  _ that. It’s not  _ ours. _ ”

“Not saying you’re wrong,” Quiet says. “Shiro and Takashi definitely were the ones to make those memories. But at the end of the day, if it affects you just as badly, it’s yours, too, just like it used to be mine, too. So does it matter where or when it came from? Your brain can’t tell the difference. It’s real to you, even if you think it shouldn’t be.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ryou says bitterly. “You  _ can  _ tell the difference. You  _ do  _ have a ‘Shiro’s’ versus ‘mine’ divide in your head.”

Quiet takes a deep breath at that, and then says as calmly as possible, “Need I remind you again, that is  _ only  _ because of actual  _ brain damage _ , or I would be in the same situation as you. I promise you—you don’t want to take that path just to make everything clear in your head. The trade off isn’t worth it.” He lets out another, short burst of humorless laughter. “Besides, the PTSD won’t ever go away—it’ll just take on new, exciting flavors  _ nobody  _ can predict, like you saw earlier.”

Ryou looks immediately apologetic, and stops pacing again long enough to give Quiet a guilty look. “Sorry. That was out of line. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s alright. I understand what you meant.”

Ryou nods, and then sighs in frustration. “I... _ do  _ get it. Or...I’m starting to. It doesn’t  _ feel  _ like it should be right. I shouldn’t be freaking out because of things that happened to Takashi that  _ never  _ happened to me. He’s the one that suffered, not me. I want to protect him from that.” His shoulders slump. “But...I don’t like admitting it, but I  _ did  _ freeze. I  _ did  _ panic. I just hate what that means.”

Quiet nods. “Trust me. I understand.”

Ryou offers a weak smile at the almost identical mimicking of the exact same phrase he’d used only varga earlier. “Yeah,” he says, after a long moment. “You  _ do,  _ don’t you?” 

“Better than anyone else alive,” Quiet agrees. Only a fellow clone could ever fully comprehend the mind traps you had to stumble through, when trying to be your own person with someone else’s personality at your core. They might not be built exactly the same, and they might approach all their problems very differently. But they understand each other in a way that Shiro or Takashi or any of the members of their respective teams  _ never  _ could.

Ryou nods, and then points at the spot next to Quiet. “Got room?”

Quiet is about to say there’s an entire couch and he’s the only one on it, so obviously there’s room, when he picks up on Ryou’s more direct meaning. “Sure.”

His counterpart wastes no time flopping down on the couch directly next to Quiet, and leaning against him shoulder to shoulder again, just like before. Quiet doesn’t dislodge him. Ryou was probably itching for physical contact, and while Quiet is probably a poor substitution for Takashi—ironically—he’s still better than nothing.

“Sorry,” he mutters after a moment. “Shiro and I aren’t as...huggy as you and Takashi are.” 

“That’s because you two don’t act like twins, like you basically  _ are,”  _ Ryou points out. 

“We use the twin thing as a cover story. We’re just...not that, so it never felt like it applied to us. We’re something else, and both of us are cool with that.”

Ryou grunts at that. Then, “You guys are never huggy at all?”

“Somebody has to be having a mental breakdown for that,” Quiet says, somewhat dryly. It’s not that either he or Shiro are really  _ opposed  _ to physical contact. They’re both fine with the occasional hug or shoulder pat or gentle nudge. It’s just that neither of them really use those things to express themselves on a regular basis, unlike his counterpart, and the contrast is stark when interacting with Ryou for more than ten doboshes.

“Well, we’re nearly there, so there you go.” Ryou pointedly nudges him in the shoulder. Quiet snorts.

“I still don’t regret taking Terkon on by myself,” Ryou says after a moment.

“I know.”

“I regret that I fucked up how I handled it, a lot. I regret I almost got Lance killed, and that I scared everyone else. I regret that Shiro was so upset about it after. But I don’t regret taking him on.”

“I know.” 

“Takashi would have _died._ I still had at least some distance. I still had me _,_ Ryou, who could remember who I was and remember to fight back. Takashi wouldn’t have had that at all.”

“I know. Between the two of you, it was still probably better that it was you.” Quiet sighs. “But I’m still sorry I encouraged you to put yourself in that situation. I messed that part up too...I could’ve come up with an alternate plan if I thought about it, I’m sure.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ryou says. “But if it makes you feel better, we’ll say I forgive you and call it even. Now stop being sad about it.”

Quiet can’t help but laugh at that, and this time the laugh is less hysterical and more genuine. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Quiet hums in amusement. “Feel better?”

“Not...exactly. There’s one other thing.” 

His voice takes on the same heavy seriousness as it had at the start of the conversation, and Quiet can’t help but frown at that. “What?”

“There’s one other way I screwed up,” Ryou says softly. “And that’s...kinda why I brought this up to begin with. Because I owe you one, after all this, and I can try to make sure you don’t make the same mistake.” He pauses. “You need to tell Shiro what you did to Terkon, in your reality.”

Quiet freezes. “No.”

“It’ll be worse if you don’t,” Ryou says. “Trust me.”

“Only if he ever finds out.”

“And if he does? He’s going to be  _ devastated.  _ First that you put yourself at risk like that—”

“—that’s stupid, Terkon isn’t a threat to me like he is for Shiro.”

“Does it matter?” Ryou says. “I’ve  _ met  _ your Shiro. He’s really protective of you.”

“I’m aware,” Quiet says, unable to keep the acidic bite out of his voice. “Way too much, most of the time. I wouldn’t have needed his protection for that. If he’d been there, I’d have had to protect  _ him,  _ and everything would have been worse.”

“It’s still gonna upset him if he knows you put yourself through that, even without the memories to deal with, for him,” Ryou says. “But besides that...look. Takashi was pissed with me for a lot of reasons, and maybe not all of them even apply to you. But the one I never thought of? I took his chance to get closure against Terkon away from him. I made that call for him, and he can’t ever look that bastard in the face and decide on his own, ‘no, I’m better than you, and you don’t control me anymore.’” 

Quiet pauses. “Oh.” He honestly had never thought of that either. 

“Yeah.”

He considers. “Doesn’t matter,” he says eventually. “That closure is predicated on remembering Terkon in the first place. Shiro doesn’t, and he can’t run across Terkon anymore for a reminder.”

“Until it shows up in a dream,” Ryou says. “Or a flashback. You can’t control when those memories bubble up. If you used to be that way too, you  _ know  _ that. You know that from today with your own memories.”

“I know,” Quiet says. “And if he does remember Terkon, it’s easy enough to say I have that memory too, and help him deal with it. He never has to know anything further.”

“Because big secrets have never bitten either of us in the ass before? Something will come out  _ eventually.” _

“No it won’t.” Quiet’s voice is hard, and he glares across at the crystalline fireplace like he can set it on fire himself if he stares hard enough. “My situation is a lot different than yours. Terkon showed up unannounced at the supply base we were destroying. He wasn’t in any manifests or schedules. I was the only person to see him and I killed him immediately. The rest of the team thought I was just held up because of sentry patrols. I set three explosive charges to his body and they blew with the rest of the building. He’s fish food under thousands of pounds of base rubble, miles below the surface of an alien ocean, and no one is  _ ever  _ going to find his remains.  _ Terkon. Never. Happened.”  _

It’s the first time he’s ever repeated his mantra out loud to  _ anybody.  _ Then again, Ryou is the only one who can ever know. And even then, he never should have, no matter what he says.

Ryou actually sits up straighter, until they aren’t leaning against each other, and eyes Quiet cautiously. “That was a little...intense. You okay?”

“Fine,” Quiet says. And he really does mean that. He can bear that secret to the  _ grave  _ if that’s what it takes, and he fully intends to.

“Just seemed unlike you,” Ryou says slowly. 

“Really? Because it seems like _exactly_ the kind of thing we both agree is worth doing to protect our Shiros. Don’t pretend otherwise—I saw what you did to that Vogn commander. If circumstances were different, I _know_ you’d have done the same to Terkon.”

_ “I _ would have,” Ryou agrees. “I didn’t realize we had that in common...but I can’t say I don’t approve.” He regards Quiet with a newfound, wary respect, before settling back down to lean against Quiet again. “Kind of scary that you can disappear a giant bastard like that and nobody knows, though.”

Not so surprising to Quiet. He  _ had  _ always been designed as an ambush predator. The fact that he uses it for Voltron instead of Haggar just means he gets to control where he directs it. 

That’s probably not the best thing to say to  _ Ryou,  _ though, who will probably take that a little too much to heart. So instead he merely says, “Mm. It’s a hidden talent.”

“I bet.” Ryou shoots him a grin. “You always have to watch out for the Quiet ones, don’t you?”

Quiet glares at him. “We’ve just established I can make people disappear and you want to go for the ‘quiet’ jokes now?”

Ryou raises his hands in surrender. “Right, right. Don’t push all your buttons or I will regret it,” Ryou says. “Please let me get back to my reality in one piece.”

“You’re safe for now,” Quiet plays along. “But you’d better watch the jokes. I still have time to change my mind.” 

“Duly noted.” Ryou’s amusement quickly dulls to seriousness again. “Don’t disappear me for this one either, but just...think about telling Shiro. Before it’s too late.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Quiet says. He never actually intends to, but it’ll make Ryou drop it, at least. 

Ryou gives him a look that says he knows  _ exactly  _ what that means, but he doesn’t push further. He knows how to identify Shirogane stubbornness. He knows there’s no further point.

“Some vacation,” Ryou says finally. He sounds tired. “Two heavy conversations in a single day. I thought an interdimensional resort and amusement part was supposed to take  _ away  _ all your personal troubles.”

“We would only be so lucky,” Quiet says dryly. Then he pauses. “Though, all things considered...it’s not as bad as it could have been. At least I’m stuck here with the one person that  _ gets  _ it.”

“Yeah,” Ryou says. “There is that.” 

It definitely helped make even the bad moments bearable.


	5. Chapter 5

After all that, neither of them need convincing to take it easy for the rest of the evening. Eventually, Ryou snags the remote off the coffee table. With some minor trial and error (and a few minutes of deliberate experimentation) they’re able to turn on the holo screen and scroll through the offerings.

“It’s interesting,” Ryou mumbles, now slumped on the other side of the couch. He has a pillow in his lap, which he wraps his arms comfortably around. Quiet keeps giving him a side-eye, like he thinks he’s pining for Coran-the-Plushie, but this is just how Ryou tends to sit. 

Quiet pauses on the current channel. “This show?”

“No, no. The remote. It still works while blocked by other objects. It doesn’t need to be pointing in the right direction. That makes me think it works on a wifi system between this remote and this TV, but I don’t see the power source. And they’re crystals, which shouldn’t put off any kind of waves. Maybe they work on some kind of resonance? That’s not even touching how they get all these channels from different universes. Do they have an onsite database, or are they real time pulling from other worlds?”

Quiet makes an encouraging noise, but doesn’t actually answer as he goes back to channel surfing. It’s the same noise Ryou made when Quiet was going on about his plants—just letting him gush without actually needing any input.

“It’d be really rude to take apart their remotes, yeah?” Ryou continues. “I could probably put it back together right, but it’d be easier if I had a way to take a picture. Better than poking at the projection port, if I could even get to it on the ceiling.”

That earns him a snort. “It’s certainly less rude than breaking the bar off a ride, at least.”

Ryou picks his head up to stare at Quiet. He doesn’t look over, eyes still on the screen as it passes each channel. A romance involving two bird-like aliens with huge plumage. A space-ship bound drama with acting so corny it could only be a soap opera. A commercial with an Unilu selling some kind of cleaning powder. Despite being at this for a while, they haven’t hit repeat channels yet.

The whole time, Quiet’s expression is calm. But his gaze stays firmly away from Ryou’s.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Ryou says, forcing his tone to stay casual. He watches the TV as well, just so he’s not staring anymore. “I mean, those bars can’t be calibrated for every being in all universes, right? And other people were genuinely spooked by the whole thing. I doubt you’re the first one to break those bars. Probably not the first today.”

Quiet shrugs. His expression stays calm, but his lips press together and his shoulders climb up higher.

Yeah, okay, Ryou knows that posture. Guilt. If he didn’t recognize it from Takashi, he’d be able to recognize it on Quiet by now.

“If anything, it’s a bonus to them,” Ryou continues on, pushing his voice to be more chipper. “Our haunted house is too scary for even a paladin of Voltron! Do you dare enter?”

Finally, Quiet turns to look at him, brows raised. “So I should feel humiliated instead of ashamed?” The words lack any kind of bite, though he doesn’t crack a smile.

“Yes,” Ryou says plainly, just to watch Quiet start. Then he smiles. “No, you should feel neither. But if we have time tomorrow, we can go back long enough that you can apologize to the attendants. I’m absolutely sure they’ll tell you it was no problem.”

Quiet slowly nods and relaxes back a bit. “That would be appropriate.” He doesn’t look  _ thrilled _ to be going back, but it probably helps that they won’t be riding again. Nothing else about the place had bothered Quiet, so there was minimal chance of setting him off again. “And we could pick up Coran from the lost and found while we’re there.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ryou brightens. He hadn’t thought about that, writing off the toy as a lost cause. It hadn’t  _ mattered _ , not with everything else going on.

Quiet goes back to channel flipping. Then he pauses as familiar laughter plays. 

“Bi boh. Boh bi bi.” The long, noodly alien waggles one finger disapprovingly under the nose of another.

The second shrugged, looks directly at the camera, and says, “Bi boh bi!” 

A longer, louder set of laughter plays, interspersed with whistles and applause.

Of  _ course _ this place has a Bi-Boh-Bi sitcom.

“That might be enough television,” Quiet says.

“Agreed.”

Shutting it off, Quiet sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I know it’s early still, but I’d like to get ready for bed.”

Is it early? Without the sunshine or the castle’s schedule, Ryou’s internal clock is all out of whack. It had already been late afternoon when he left, and it’s been another full day since. Bed sounds  _ awesome. _

“Sounds good to me. We should see if there are any pajamas in here.” Ryou nods to the pile he knocked off the couch earlier. “That way we don’t have to double back.” 

Quiet nods, and the pair of them go through the pile of clothes. The more obnoxious Voltron Show based articles get put into one stack, while the tolerable ones are put in another. There are a few more pairs of jeans, as well as sweatpants that will serve nicely as pajama bottoms.

With that sorted, there’s a new hurdle.

“I’m going to need a shower,” Ryou admits. Normally he wouldn’t mind going without, but it had been a long day. The heat that had originally driven them to the water rides also worked up a sweat, and they’d been wandering around a huge park for hours. Ryou doesn’t mind getting down and dirty when he needs to, but some of Takashi’s fastidious streak remains.

Quiet crinkles his nose and nods. “I do as well,” he agrees. “When I checked before, the shower was close to the door. We might not have to both be in the room.”

Thankfully, he’s right. One of them has to be pressed against the other side of the door, but the other is able to stand comfortably in the shower. It’s a little awkward, but it’ll do. 

“You first,” Ryou says, gesturing through the bathroom door.

Quiet starts to nod, but then pauses and frowns at Ryou. “Why?”

To be honest, it’s because Ryou knows that after a panic attack like Quiet had, he’s probably covered in now dried sweat.

But that’s not an answer likely to get him anywhere good, so instead he shrugs. “‘Cause I’m being polite, I guess? Somebody has to go first. I dragged you here, so you’re kind of the guest.”

Quiet snorts but accepts the excuse. He nods and steps inside, closing the door behind him. Through it, Ryou can hear cloth falling to the floor and the stream of water start.

Ryou leans back, his shoulder blades and head pressed to the cool metal. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It’s been a hell of a day, both in length and content. Now that he’s finally slowed down and forced to be still, he can feel how heavy his limbs are.

Bed sounds wonderful. Even if he’s a little afraid of how soft and fluffy the mattresses are. Yeah, they’re definitely luxurious, but he suspects his back is going to hurt like hell in the morning. Any jokes he would make about being both a toddler and an old man would hit differently to another clone.

Ryou tilts his head and watches the tank on the other side of the room. From here, the fish inside are little flashes of color and movement. Absently, he tries to count how many there are, but that far away it’s hard to tell any of them apart. Maybe later he’ll take a closer look. Thus far, the park and their conversations haven’t given him the opportunity.

It only takes a few minutes for the water shut off. Economical showers are still ingrained into Quiet, it seems. Or he’s just conscious of Ryou outside. Despite that, the shower door doesn’t open, and there are no wet footsteps. Drip drying a bit, maybe? Or just taking a breather. It’s impossible to tell without seeing his face, and—

A  _ crack _ comes from outside, loud enough that Ryou feels it reverberate in his chest. A moment later, there is a whistling noise, like something streaking through the air, then several more cracks.

Ryou jolts back into reality, heart in this throat. It sounds like gunfire. The pitched noise is like when something is fired through the air. A missle?

Instinct kicks in. Ryou pushes off the door to find the source of the sound.

He comes to a sudden stop. There’s a  _ thunk _ on the other side of the wall, as Quiet is yanked into the glass walls of the shower.

Shit.

“Ryou!” Quiet snaps, voice echoing in the small space. “Can you please stand in one spot for ten minutes?”

“I heard gunfire outside.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then the shower door opens and there’s the rustling of cloth. Seconds later, Quiet emerges, hair plastered to his forehead and clothes sticking to his chest and legs. “Where?”

Ryou gestures toward the north-most wall. The direction of the park. “Where the most people are.” His mind races ahead. Who could be attacking? The Galra? Of which universe? 

Quiet nods, expression deadly serious. “Right. Let me get my armor.”

“We don’t have time!” Ryou starts for the portal door, shoulders set. Maybe there’s something worse out here. This is a strange interdimensional space like the world with the Vogn had been. Could they have something to do with it?

But Quiet pulls him up short. When Ryou whirls around, he points to the balcony, which also faces the park. “Let’s at least have a look to know what we’re getting into.”

Ryou shifts from foot to foot, but nods. He hates the idea of an attack on all the families just enjoying a theme park, but they’ll help better if they know what’s going on. “Fine.”

As they start for the balcony, there’s another of the whistles. Ryou’s heart catches in his throat as he throws the doors open.

There’s a powerful  _ crack, _ and Ryou stumbles back, stepping in front of Quiet on pure instinct. His arm comes up to create a shield using the armor he’s not wearing. A flash of light causes him to close his eyes, and he braces as a series of smaller cracks ring out. The sound of them echoes around them.

Behind him, Quiet stills. Then he groans. “Is this a prank? While I was in the  _ shower?” _

What? Ryou’s eyes snap open, and he whirls to look at him. “You think I attacked Elysium on a prank?”

Quiet’s annoyed expression slowly falls away. He looks past Ryou, then back to him. As he does, there’s  _ several _ whistles, and Ryou slams his eyes closed on instinct just before they go off.

Hands settle on his shoulders. Ryou blinks his eyes open just as he’s slowly turned in place. “It’s okay,” Quiet says, both confused and gentle. “Look down. No one’s hurt.”

First the first time, Ryou does look out. The sky is dark, with only a few visible stars. The park below is bathed in lights, lining the shops and streets. Indeed, the crowds are still out, milling in the streets toward the center of the park.

No one seems hurt. No one even seems worried. There are kids perched on their guardian’s shoulders, and many of the people have out their cameras.

What?

As Ryou processes that, there’s another series of whistles. He tenses as streaks of light burst out. But they’re going up into the air, not down at the crowds. Then, they explode—the noise he’d been hearing—in a bright display of color and light. A starburst of glowing sparks falls away, soon joined by more and more.

“Your universe doesn’t have fireworks?” Quiet asks. “I knew there were odd differences, but somehow I didn’t expect that one.”

Fireworks? Ryou racks his mind and comes up totally blank. “I don’t know,” he admits. More and more of the things fly up, leaving dazzling trails before they turn into huge flowers of light that slowly flutter back down. “I only remember what Shiro thought about in the arena. I didn’t even know my- his parents’ first names at first. Maybe I just never got this memory.”

Quiet tilts his head, expression softening. His features light up red, then green, then yellow before he steps to the banister and leans on it. “It should be a good show. They don’t do anything by halves, here.”

Ryou lets the last of his nerves fall away as he steps forward, mirroring Quiet’s posture. “No kidding. You okay? Sorry for yanking you like that for nothing.”

“Considering what you knew, it was a reasonable reaction. Besides, I’m glad we’re not missing this.” Quiet turns his face up, watching the sky.

Several more rounds of the fireworks go off. Ryou watches, fascinated as he tries to determine how they work. At first he thinks there’s some kind of coloring agent in the explosives themselves, but it wouldn’t cause all the little flurries of light to stay that shade. Whatever it is they’re burning must be that color—basic elements, maybe?

A row of fireworks fire off, one second between each from the left to the right. As they do, the sky behind them  _ shifts, _ stars winking out and reappearing. When each firework goes off, it scatters into larger dots. The sky behind it develops faint lines, not bright enough to detract for the show but enough to connect the points.

“Constellations,” Quiet says, a smile pulling up at his lips. “From different planets or universes.”

Ryou’s breath catches. The air has a very faint layer of smoke, but it just catches and refracts the lights from the fireworks and the sky above. The effect gives away the lie — they’re clearly below some kind of huge net or screen. None of the weather has been natural. But Ryou doesn’t mind that at all when it lets them put on a show like this.

After several sets of constellations and night skies, the screen changes again. This time it’s a dark forest scene. One of the park’s animated characters draws a sword against a huge, hulking beast. Below, children and adults alike shriek in delight, obviously recognizing the scene. 

The creature sucks in air and blows it out as fire. At the same moment, red and yellow fireworks go off, exploding through the streak of flame. It adds light and real heat to the attack, and Ryou finds himself caught up in the moment as the hero dodges. They strike out with their sword, and a flash of blue and white matches the blow.

The moments go by with dizzying speed. Even without context, Ryou can follow along — heroes win, evil is defeated, people fall in love. There’s even a small scene of five streaking lights with lion roars, where each is trailed by fireworks of the appropriate color.

Finally, there’s a last huge burst of fireworks, as though the park is throwing out everything they have left. By the end, Ryou feels half-deaf and mostly blind, but he’s laughing and cheering along with the crowd. Quiet is less vocal with his enthusiasm, but no less enthralled as the last of the fireworks finally taper off.

Ryou laughs giddily, head thrown back. The air has a sticky humidity and the acrid taste of smoke, but he doesn’t mind the least. “That was amazing.” Halfway through he’d totally forgotten about trying to figure out the mechanisms they used to make the show. Instead he’d just enjoyed.

“It was certainly something special.” Quiet smiles softly as he opens the door again. After the heat outside, the air conditioning is refreshingly cool.

Ryou nods to the bathroom. “You need to finish up?”

“No, I’m finished. Your turn.”

Nodding, Ryou grabs his pajamas and heads into the bathroom. Figuring out alien showers is old hat by now, between all the Castle of Lion’s system and all the strange worlds they’ve been on. Ryou gives himself a few seconds of standing under the stream, letting the hot water just run over his muscles. 

Habit has Ryou moving rather than relaxing. He toys with the various bottles, figuring out which is shampoo and which is body soap. It all has a sweet floral smell. He doesn’t recognize it, but the closest he can get is a vanilla perfume. Not what he’d pick, but he can’t begin to care. All he wants is to be clean and then horizontal.

After, he towels himself off as quickly and mechanically as possible. If it was Takashi outside, Ryou might walk out or sleep shirtless. But he doesn’t know how Quiet would react to the lack of scars, especially after that bombshell of a memory. Frankly, Ryou doesn’t want to deal with that, so shirt it is.

Ryou gives his hair one last scrub (ugh, his roots are definitely showing) before giving up on it and wandering back out. As soon as the door opens, Quiet heads further into the bedroom.

Quiet’s paladin armor and Ryou’s clothes, previously piled next to the bathroom, are now carefully set on each bed. It looks like they’ve been cleaned.

Ryou appreciates it. That’s really nice of them. But did they have to put their clothes on the  _ beds? _ All he wants is to crash, and now there’s an extra task in between.

It’s tempting to just shove it all off and crawl into bed. But Ryou cares for his stuff too much for that. So he carefully bundles them up and sets them down next to the closet, coordinating with Quiet so they don’t jerk each other around.

The beds have been shoved a couple of feet apart. In theory, that leaves plenty of space for them both to get comfortable.

In practice, though, each bed is still pretty wide, which adds problems. When Quiet tries to climb into the middle of his bed, Ryou jolts. When Ryou tries to roll onto his stomach and get comfortable, Quiet groans.

After some trial and error, they find a kind of equilibrium. Both of them have to lay on the side of the bed closest to the other, but at least they aren’t constantly being tugged.

“Good night,” Quiet says, slightly muffled by his pillow.

“Night,” Ryou returns. He shifts, getting used to the ridiculously soft bed, and occasionally he hears Quiet doing the same.

The atmosphere is odd. Last time, neither of them had slept around the other—they’d taken opposite shifts, sticking with their own Shiros. It’s not uncomfortable, but Ryou is constantly aware of the other person in the room, and that he’s never slept near them. It’s purely psychological, but Ryou’s can’t help the way his focus keeps locking onto Quiet.

Quiet lets out a soft grunt and rolls over again. Ryou doesn’t even open his eyes as he’s dragged a few inches, like a stubborn dog yanked by a leash. He stops barely an inch from the edge, and he can feel the mattress dip like he’s about to slide off.

“Sorry,” Quiet mumbles out.

Ryou just grunts his acknowledgement.

Slowly, the sound of another person’s breathing becomes normal again. That, or Ryou is just too tired to give a damn. It feels like he’s sinking deeper and deeper into the fluffy monstrosity of luxury below him.

As he starts to fade, Ryou rolls onto his stomach again, where he’s most comfortable.

The resulting jerk yanks him right back into awareness, and drags a frustrated sigh out of Quiet.

“Okay,” Ryou says, sitting up. “Screw this. I’m a restless sleeper, and I’m willing to bet you are too. This is dumb.”

Quiet picks his head up and frowns at Ryou. “If your suggestion is to stay up, you’ll be doing it on your own.”

“Not that. But you have to get up for a minute, or else neither of us are sleeping.”

Quiet groans, but reluctantly climbs out of bed. Ryou follows, and uses the extra space to get to the far side of his own bed. Once there, he gives a few firm shoves, until only an inch or two separates the mattresses.

“There,” Ryou says. He climbs back in, starfishing out just because he can without causing issues. “We’ll stay on our sides, but this way we can actually sleep.”

Quiet makes a thankful noise. He has to knee-walk his way up from the bottom of the bed rather than go to the other side, but that’s a small price to pay. He settles down, and after a few minutes of rolling over and settling, his breathing evens out.

Ryou follows shortly after.

After all the heavy conversations they’d had earlier, of course it isn’t pleasant.

_ Ryou stands over the specimen, watching it struggle. The face is identical, down to the scar carved painstakingly across the nose. The wound still freshly bleeds, staining the cheeks. Lines of clear skin from tear tracks cut through the mess of red. _

_ It tries to yank itself away from him. Ryou watches, lips pulled down. He feels no pity, no empathy, nothing but annoyance. It’s in the way. It’s moving too much. It keeps making  _ noise.

_ He knows, dispassionately, what his mission is. This whimpering creature cannot do what needs to be done. It will not understand instructions, will not comprehend how to save itself, could never take part in the strategy Voltron will require. _

_ It will be fixed. _

_ Ryou steps forward, his hands out. Both are metal and skeletal, basic blackened joints attached to a slab of steel as a palm. _

_ When he moves, the creature’s breath hitches. More tears pour down as it tries to turn from him. Ryou doesn’t bother hiding his sneer. It’s helpless, in so many ways. These feeble movements do nothing but annoy him. _

_ He’ll do better that this thing ever could. _

_ He presses one hand to the mouth, the other pinching the nose. The creature bucks, straining its torso off the table. The screaming gets louder, despite the metal muffling the noise. _

_ “Quiet,” Ryou says. It’s a command, but part of him thinks of it as a name as well. _

_ The creature continues to struggle and scream. Its nails dig at the metal table. One shake of the head nearly pulls away from his hands, but Ryou tightens his grip to crushing levels. _

_ Even so, the desperate struggles are becoming a problem. This angle won’t do. Ryou climbs onto the table as well, until he’s on his knees over the clone. He uses gravity and his own strength to push down harder. The metal tips of his fingers dig into the skin, cutting through and adding to the blood. Those marks will have to be repaired later. _

_ The identical grey eyes below haze in fear and lack of oxygen. Tears pour down the cheeks, both pathetic emotion and autonomous bodily reaction. The hands are suddenly free, and they shove at his chest, pushing him away. _

_ Shoving him— _

_ Yanking him— _

_ Pulling him— _

Pulling him—

Ryou’s eyes snap open as he feels himself be tugged another inch. He scrambles at the sheets for purchase. But another tug pulls him enough that his back crosses the edge of the bed. As he moves, his balance is shot, and he topples over the side and onto the carpeted floor.

“Oh—” Quiet says. His head appears over the side of his own bed. He frowns, openly contrite. “Sorry. I was trying to wake you.”

Ryou rubs the side of his head and sits up. He’s covered in a layer of sweat (again), and he’s rumpled from his fall. All in all, he kind of wants to hide under his covers so he’s not such an open mess. “Somethin’ happen?” He slurs out. His mouth still feels full of cotton.

“You were dreaming,” Quiet says. “You were moving and making noise.”

Oh. His nightmare had woken Quiet. Ryou sighs and climbs back into bed, flopping out over the covers. He doesn’t feel like straightening them yet. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You know I’ve been there too.” Quiet lays back, head on his pillow. The room is dark, but there’s still just enough light coming from the windows to see each other.

Silence fills the room. Ryou stays still, trying to push the dream back into the depths of his mind where it had come from. Some of the details are just starting to fade, but the feeling of a mouth and nose under his is still crystal clear.

“Was it because of what I told you?”

Ryou jumps. He’d thought Quiet had gone back to sleep. Picking his head up, he sees Quiet is watching him, a frown cutting across his face.

“You mean what I tricked you into telling me?” Ryou corrects. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he suspects it’s guilt coloring Quiet’s question. “It’s fine. I wanted to know, and now I get to deal. Don’t act like I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one deserves those memories.”

“Yeah, well, you have them. I might as well have them too.” Ryou turns over on his side so he can’t see Quiet anymore. “Fair’s fair.”

“None of this is fair.” The words drip with bitterness. 

There’s another long silence, where Ryou wishes for Quiet to take the out and just go to sleep.

Instead, Quiet speaks again. “You didn’t steal anything. I said it before, but I don’t think you believed me.”

“I don’t.”

“How could I remember the person before Shiro’s memories if I wasn’t him?”

Ryou scowls into the dark. “Well, I don’t have them. That’s what you dreamt of. I dreamt of suffocating them.”

Silence, again. Ryou hopes it’s horror. He hopes Quiet gives up on this, decides it’s a difference of their universe and just goes back to sleep.

“I know you’re that person,” Quiet continues on, because Ryou isn’t that lucky. “Because you’re like me. We’re resilient.”

So’s Shiro. So’s Takashi. Even if that’s true, how do they know it came from that original mind and not the person they were cloned from?

It’s a useless question. Ryou shouldn’t even be pushing this point, not to Quiet. Anything he says applies to the other man just as much.

“We are,” Ryou agrees, because at the end of the day it’s true no matter what. They’re clones who painstakingly built themselves their own identities. 

That seems to be enough for Quiet. Maybe he believes Ryou, or maybe he doesn’t. Either way, he rolls over and lets it go. Eventually, his breathing evens out.

It takes Ryou a long time to follow.

Once again, it doesn’t last.

At least this time, it’s not Ryou’s dreams that wake him. It’s Quiet’s.

The sound of choking is what draws Ryou out of a deep sleep. He pushes himself up in a dazed rush, looking around. His first, wild thought is that someone was eating while he was asleep, and now they couldn’t breathe.

Movement catches Ryou’s eye. He turns, intending to try... something for whoever it is that needs help. But instead, all he sees is Quiet in his own bed. He’s twisted up in the covers, Olkari prosthetic gripping the pillow so hard it might burst any moment. His face is pressed tight against his pillow, like he’s flinching back. “C—” Another choked noise, which Ryou belatedly realizes is him trying to speak in his sleep.

A nightmare.

No surprise. After that haunted house ride, of course he isn’t sleeping peacefully.

Well, trying to tug with their bond is out. Being woken up by falling off the side of the bed wasn’t fun. “Quiet,” Ryou hisses, then winces. No, bad idea. Not when he’d flinched so badly from the nickname during his panic attack.

Ryou’s eyes fall onto his pillow.

Maybe not the best idea, but...

Picking it up, Ryou holds it high up above his head. Then he swings it down in an arch, trying to stay carefully out of the way and still hit.

The pillow lands with a  _ thwack. _ Quiet immediately jolts, shoving the pillow away. Ryou pulls it back before any glowing arms can get involved.

“Ryou!” Ryou says. “Hey, it’s okay. It was a dream. Remember Elysium?”

Quiet sits up, taking deep gulps of air. He doesn’t respond, but he isn’t trying to struggle or acting like there’s threats around. So Ryou lets him process, holding his pillow against his chest.

Finally, Quiet speaks. “Guess we’re even now.”

“On nightmares? One for one. There’s a competition no one wants to win.” Ryou watches, understanding better now how Quiet had stared at him last time. It’s a weirdly intimate kind of concern that keeps his attention. 

Finally, Quiet flops back down, groaning. “I’m good,” he says, exhaustion dripping from each word. “You should sleep. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I already did this once to you.” Ryou stays sitting up. “You, uh, want to talk about it?”

“No. Though that’s not stopped you before,” Quiet points out darkly.

Ryou winces. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. But I’m offering, not demanding. Just if you want.”

“I don’t.”

Well, that answers that. Ryou’s really not got a leg to stand on when it comes to pushing. So instead he pulls the covers back up and tries to get comfortable.

Once again, silence hangs heavy in the room. Quiet’s breathing hasn’t evened out, and Ryou would be surprised if he drifted off again that quickly. But he’s not going to push, not anymore. He’s done plenty of that for one day.

“Tell me where the clone facility is,” Quiet says suddenly. His voice comes out steely at first, but softens at the end.

Ryou snorts. “Takashi can’t make me listen with that tone. Good fucking luck.”

“I  _ should _ know _ , _ ” Quiet insists. He doesn’t sound happy about it. “Don’t I have a responsibility to go see? What if it’s still active? What if I can help them?”

“It’s not, because Haggar doesn’t do the same plan twice. Not  _ ever. _ It failed, and you got found out, and now no one’ll trust extra Shiros randomly showing up.” There’s only silence in answer, so Ryou sighs. “I won’t. I won’t do that to you, and I won’t do that to Shiro. Takashi threw up when we went there.  _ Publically. _ Spare yours that. They’re all dead, even if it’s not trapped. Your responsibility is to your team and the living first.”

There’s a long silence. “Okay,” Quiet says, but there’s a thread of pain to the word. It doesn’t sound disappointed, but there’s  _ something _ hurting him.

Ryou turns around to face him again. “There’s better things for you to do. I didn’t say in the moment, but... not all the clones were at the facility. Haggar took two viable clones with her. We don’t know why, but those are the only ones who got away. We haven’t found any hint of what she did with them, but  _ those _ are the clones you have a responsibility to. Find Haggar and stop her. That’s the best you can do for all of us. That’s my plan.”

Finally, Quiet takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he repeats, but this time it sounds stronger. 

“Good.” Ryou settles down again, eyes closed. “We’re going to save any of us that escaped. And we’ll live, and we’ll end Haggar. For all of us.”

“We will.”

Ryou falls asleep before he hears Quiet’s breathing deepen. He hopes he helped, at least a little. 

It’s all he can do.

***

The next time Ryou wakes, it’s slowly. First he’s aware of the bed, which has him half swallowed. Then it’s light in the room, visible even behind his closed eyes. Ryou turns over and tries to shove his face further into the pillow, but it’s too late. The rest of his mind is coming online—Elysium, Quiet, nightmares. 

Ryou’s still tired, but he no longer feels like he could pass out on his feet. In memory and in practice, he’s learned to function on less than that.

Pushing himself up, Ryou blinks around the room. Early morning sunlight pours in from the window, further washing out the pale color scheme of the room. His hair stands up awkwardly, a consequence of falling asleep sweaty after his nightmare. Ryou idly combs it with his fingers as he looks to Quiet.

Quiet, who is already awake, and watching him calmly. From his clear eyes, he’s been up for a while.

“Mornin’,” Ryou croaks out. He starts to say more, but a jaw-cracking yawn interrupts him.

Quiet’s brows rise, and a smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “You’re much more tolerable this morning than you were last time we slept in the same place.”

“How dare you,” Ryou says. “I’m never tolerable.” He doesn’t bother to point out that last time he’d been awake for varga before Quiet, since he and Takashi had been on watch. “You been up for long?”

“Not terribly. Only half a varga.” 

Ryou eyes him blearily, and Quiet meets his gaze head on. It’s harder to read him with sleep still blurring his vision, but Ryou’s pretty sure Quiet’s being truthful. “Alright. You bored? You could have woken me.”

“This might surprise you, but some people are capable of sitting quietly for more than 20 seconds at a time.”

Snorting, Ryou rolls his shoulders until the covers fall away. “Some people? Sure. Shiroganes? Nah. You’re Quiet, and all, but you’re not an idle kind of guy.”

Quiet stares at him blandly. “I thought we had an agreement on the subject of Quiet jokes and not being disappeared?”

Right. Ryou points at him and narrows his eyes. “I said nothing. You misheard.”

“Sure.” Quiet shakes his head. “I would have told you the specifics about Terkon far earlier if I thought you’d be better behaved.”

Ryou just grunts. Keeping up the banter is a lot harder when he’s still shaking off sleep. “Bathroom? Mouth is gross.”

Nodding, Quiet kicks off his covers. They trade off freshening up in the bathroom, and by the end Ryou feels like a person and not a semi-sentient mass. When Ryou steps out of the bathroom, he catches Quiet tucking his canister of medicine back into his pocket.

“I was thinking we could do room service,” Quiet offers, once Ryou emerges.

Ryou shrugs, unbothered. He picks up yesterday’s clothes and sets them in the bathroom, where they’re out of the way. “Sure. You don’t want to go somewhere in the park?” Not that it matters to Ryou. The only place he would care to eat is that Ssothesse place. But nothing he ate there really felt like breakfast food.

Quiet shakes his head. “As much as I enjoy trying new foods, this morning isn’t the time. I’m hoping we can order something familiar.” He steps into the main room, then freezes.

Stiffening as well, Ryou raises his arm in preparation for a fight. “What’s wrong?” He steps out as well, then pauses.

Coran-the-plushie is sitting on the table in their kitchenette. In the pale morning lighting, his huge, black eyes look flat and lifeless.

Ryou’s eyes go wide, and then he beams. “Coran found his way home!”

Sighing, Quiet doesn’t bother to respond to Ryou’s childish statement. Instead he rubs over his forehead. “I did not expect to see that.” His lips pull down. “I suppose that means they know who damaged their ride.”

They probably knew anyway. No doubt this place has some form of security. Ryou gives Quiet a pat on the arm. “Maybe not. Coran’s not a snitch, are you, buddy?” He heads into the kitchen, steps slow and short until Quiet starts to follow. He plucks the toy up and gives him an appreciative squeeze. Then, subtly as he can, Ryou presses his face to the fur and breathes in.

Coran still smells a little like the formaldehyde of the ride. 

Damn. Ryou pulls back then frowns pointedly. “Ugh, he must have fallen on the floor when we left. He’s kind of dusty. Probably best to leave him with my stuff today.”

Quiet nods without seeming to pay attention. Instead his focus is on the notice tacked on their complimentary mini-fridge. It probably has the instructions to order room service.

While he’s busy, Ryou tosses Coran (gently!) across the room. He lands next to the pile of obnoxious Voltron shirts, which Quiet is deeply unlikely to mess with.

Then Ryou settles at the table, content to let Quiet order food using the little bell on the mantle. Everything he lists off is unfamiliar to Ryou anyway. So he just watches, one hand braced on his chin, until it sounds like he’s winding down. “Ask if we can talk to Yulvire this morning,” he adds. “Find out how the fix is going.”

Nodding, Quiet does so. Whatever the response is, Ryou can’t hear it, but Quiet nods. 

“Alright, thank you very much.” Quiet turns from the bell and sits down as well. “Breakfast should be here shortly, and they said we can meet them in a varga.”

Ryou gives a thumbs up with his free hand. “Cool. Do we have to let them in for breakfast, or—”

Before he can even finish, a white ball of light appears in the middle of their table. Both of them pull back instinctively, just as it forms several plates and bowls. The light flashes and goes out, leaving several serving platters and plates of food behind.

“Quick service,” Quiet says. He moves to the cabinet, thankfully within the five foot limit, and grabs two sets of plates and bowls. “Which probably means it’s prepared well ahead of time and just sent up when asked.”

“Or it’s space magic,” Ryou offers, but without any real effort to be convincing. “And, hey, it’s hotel food. Isn’t that supposed to suck?” He has memories of Takashi getting room service for the pre-Kerberos press tour, and it had never been good.

Quiet makes an affronted noise. “One would think the ultimate resort destination of multiple universes could do better than any old hotel breakfast.”

“All the better to drive you outside to eat at the real restaurants.”

Sighing, Quiet shakes his head. “I suppose so.” He pushes over a large bowl of what looks like multi-colored beads toward Ryou. “These  _ gyumi  _ have a similar texture to dry cereal. You should enjoy them.”

Perking, Ryou spoons some into his own bowl. “Yeah? Nice, thank you.” He genuinely appreciates the way that Quiet keeps including him in food plans. He’s got so used to pushing it off, that the thoughtfulness keeps hitting him anew. That, and Quiet really  _ doesn’t _ have to keep trying.

Quiet gives him the same look he did last night after dinner, like Ryou’s being dense to even suggest he wouldn’t. Even so, he nods, then digs into his own meal. He takes something that has the texture of scrambled eggs (if pale green), and adds small slices of some kind of salty meat. When he digs in, he seems pretty pleased with it, despite his earlier trepidation.

As he chews, Ryou eyes the tank of fish, which he  _ still _ hasn’t bothered to get a closer look at. “You think we’re supposed to feed those?” He asks, pointing his spork toward it.

Quiet glances back and frowns. “I’d imagine not. There aren’t any instructions, and they clean every day. I assume someone else feeds them. Fish are only supposed to be fed so often, aren’t they?”

Is that a thing? Ryou shrugs, clueless. Either Takashi never bothered to learn, or it never transferred to Ryou. Either way, he digs back into his food, satisfied he’s not leaving the little things to go hungry.

Breakfast passes peacefully, if quietly (and this time Ryou bites back any jokes). It’s still too early for Ryou to be properly irritating, and Quiet seems content to let the comfortable silence continue. After, they clean up (or, more accurately, stack the dishes in the tiny sink), then change into new shirts from the pile and head to the portal.

Yulvire is waiting for them in the lobby. They offer a wide smile, parting their muzzle as they wave. “Good morning to you both! I hope you had an enjoyable day yesterday.”

Quiet stills, just barely noticeable. His hesitation is subtle, but Ryou spots it. He’s probably wondering if Yulvire knows about the damage to the haunted house ride.

Ryou smiles back, stepping forward. “It’s been great,” he says, letting his voice fill with honest happiness. Immediately, Yulvire rises up another couple of inches, and their fur seems to get a silkier sheen. “I’m hoping next time we come, it’s for a good, long vacation. But we’re needed in our universes, so we wanted to know how that’s going.”

“Of course,” Yulvire says, nodding. “We understand completely. Our research team thinks they understand the cause of the issue. They’re testing now to make sure we can safely disconnect the bond and get you home without issue. I’ve been told it should be ready by midday.”

Quiet sighs in relief. “That’s great to hear.”

Yelvire beams back. Their shining eyes grow visibly brighter. “Of course! All your credits remain, and your room is booked through the night, just in case. We’ll contact you through your circlets just as soon as we’re ready.”

“Great.” Ryou glances at Quiet, then turns his smile to Yulvire again. “We actually had a couple of small requests, if we could? The gardens you have on the other side of the hotel are amazing, and there were a few plants that Qu- my counterpart admired. Do you do any kind of cuttings or samples?”

Yulvire pauses. Their ears pull back as he looks at Quiet. “I’ll see what I can do,” they said, carefully choosing each word. “But there are certain considerations.”

Quiet nods, holding up one hand soothingly. “Of course, I understand. Any samples won’t leave the Castle of Lions, where we have specialized equipment to handle the individual needs of each plant species we grow. As long as I have instructions, they will be well cared for. But I understand if there are rules against it.”

Perking, Yulvire visibly relaxes. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’ll pass that along, and see what we can do.”

“That’s plenty,” Quiet says.

“And one other quick thing.” Ryou bites back a smile as a thought occurs. He leans toward Quiet and murmurs to him. “I’m going to ask some questions about their crystal tech, and see if I can get a manual. It’d be useful to have a kind of technology the Galra wouldn’t know about. You want to check the map and see if there’s any place you’d want to hit for lunch or to kill time?”

Quiet’s brows rise, but he looks relieved to be given an excuse to bow out of Ryou’s tech-based rambling. “Sure.” He steps away, just barely within the limits of their psychic teather.

While he’s distracted, Ryou speaks lowly to Yulvire. “I wanted to ask you about some of your communication tech...”

A few minutes later, Ryou has an answer. He waves a cheery goodbye to Yulvire, confident he will collect the requested supplies, if it’s possible. Then he settles in next to Quiet at the check-in desk, which is currently empty. He imagines it’s only staffed when someone is about to come through. “Find anything good?”

“A few places,” Quiet says, eyes still on the map. “We’re certainly spoiled for food choices. We can decide what sounds good when we’re ready to eat again.”

“Works for me.” Ryou offers him a shining smile. “So, there was one more ride I wanted to hit before we stopped for dinner yesterday.”

Quiet’s brows rise at the polite framing, but he doesn’t object. “Oh?”

Biting back a smirk, Ryou points to the ride on the map.

“No.”

“It’ll be  _ fun.” _

“Absolutely not.”

Ryou sticks out his bottom lip and rocks back on his heels. “It’s the only ride we haven’t been on. And the pamphlet says it’s the best rated attraction in the whole park!”

Quiet crosses his arm. “You are not getting me on the  _ Voltron Show _ ride.”

“C’mon, I thought you were game for trying everything!” When Quiet’s expression doesn’t budge, Ryou nudges him. “What, ‘cause you’re embarrassed?”

“Of course I am,” Quiet points to his chest, where the Voltron Show logo is brightly printed. “This whole thing was  _ embarrassing. _ Mortification is the correct response. You did it as a joke, but I didn’t, remember?”

Okay, yeah, but that’s part of why Ryou’s digging in his heels. “Not as a joke,” he agrees. “But not as  _ you _ either. We were both being our Shiros. I was just more intentional. But you were acting just as much as I was.”

Quiet eyes him from under his bangs, lips pressed thin. “I was not. I couldn’t have been acting if I didn’t know I was doing it. As far as I was concerned, that was completely real, and I remember every agonizing moment. So forgive me for not finding it as amusing.”

“Fine, then,” Ryou says, brows up. “If that’s true, then it wasn’t  _ Quiet _ who did it. It was Shiro. Maybe he doesn’t remember it, and good for him. But you can’t be held responsible for your actions during the show any more than anything else that happened before you knew.”

The change in tactics makes Quiet pause, eyes narrow. He’s not convinced yet, but at least he’s hearing Ryou out.

“The show was a weird, uncomfortable thing for everyone,” Ryou continues, trying to keep his voice from softening. He doesn’t think Quiet will appreciate that tone. “But we got through it, and now it’s over. You don’t need to let it hold you back or feel bad about it. This is supposed to be the best ride in the park. Do you want to pass it up because of that?”

Quiet ducks his head and sighs. He’s silent as he considers, and Ryou lets him think. 

It’d be a shame to pass up on this ride, because he suspects it’s going to be  _ hilarious. _ But if instead they spend the time wandering in those gardens again or just hanging out in their rooms, Ryou’s okay with that too.

“The show will never be comfortable,” Quiet says. “I don’t think it can be. It was so  _ stupid.” _

Ah, well. He’d tried. Ryou nods and turns back to the map. “Yeah, okay. We can just relax today, then. But when we go out for lunch, I want to hit one of the  _ Voltron Show _ stores, because Lance’ll kill me if I don’t get him some merch.”

Quiet snorts and leans against the desk. “I wasn’t done. I was going to say that you’re right. I don’t want to avoid something good because of it.”

Perking, Ryou whirls around. “Yeah? Great! Now? We can stick our heads into the haunted ride too if you still want. It’s on the way.”

Quiet doesn’t bother to hide his amusement at Ryou’s cheerful turnaround. The smile slips at the mention of the ride, but he nods. “That would be good.”

Since the dark ride section of the park is a good distance away, they take a portal. It puts them just across the street from the haunted house ride. Quiet tenses, and Ryou fights the urge to hover or offer comforting words. He can handle it, and he doesn’t need Ryou fussing.

Once inside, they quickly find an attendant and Quiet explains the situation. His head is held high and his voice is even, but Ryou can read the ramrod tension in his spine and shoulders.

“If there’s anything I can do to make up for the damage, please let me know,” Quiet says.

The Elysian sinks to the floor, their shorter-than-average ears drooping to the sides. “There’s no need to worry at all. The damage was fixed quickly. We know scaring customers can lead to unexpected results, and frankly it’s relieving that you didn’t try to strike any of the employees.”

Ryou thinks of the employees in costumes who they’d waved to so easily, as well as the one who had tried to stop them from going backstage. It sucks to think of any of them getting hurt. “Definitely not.”

“Agreed,” Quiet says, frowning deeply. “Even so, I apologize for any trouble it caused.”

The attendant shakes their head. “None at all. I sincerely hope you’re feeling better.”

Quiet nods, though he swallows hard. “Yes, absolutely. I just needed a moment. And the rest of the ride was amazing.”

Slowly, the Elysian lifts back into the air. “That’s all the thanks we need,” they insist, nodding. “And that you enjoy the rest of your stay.”

With that, they file out, though the tension doesn’t quite leave Quiet’s jaw.

“Everything good?” Ryou asks. Maybe he should let it go, but he’d rather check in now than before they’re in line.

Quiet sighs and crosses his arms. “It’s difficult to know how truthful they’re being, don’t you think? Their energy seems to depend on our mood, so how do we know they’re not just trying to appease us?”

That’s a decent question. Ryou runs a hand through his hair as he thinks about it. “Well,” he says slowly. “That one at the teacup ride didn’t hesitate to tell us to go the hell away, if in a polite way. If we really caused problems, they’d have told you to keep to other parts of the park, yeah?”

Quiet’s head picks up. He nods and takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders. “That’s true.”

“And they said exactly what I did — this stuff happens. It’s a haunted house. People do weird stuff when they get spooked. They’re prepared for it. So don’t worry.” Ryou knocks their shoulders together, then gestures grandly down the road. Visible over the tops of several booths and stores, a replica of Voltron stands with his sword held high. “Ready?”

Quiet wrinkles his nose at the decoration, but there’s no hesitation when he nods. “Yes. Let’s go.”

Before they even get to the ride, Ryou stops short. Quiet jerks to a halt, frowning. In response, Ryou points to an Elysian set up with a camera at the base of the fake Voltron. They’re clearly set up to take commemorative photos.

“Seriously?”

“Come on, just  _ one _ with the fake Voltron,” Ryou begs. “Look how accurate it is! I want to show everyone. And it’s a memento.”

Quiet looks up and his expression softens. “Just one,” he agrees.

The Elyisan brightens as they come over, smiling widely. When they show interest in a photo op, they’re quickly shuffled over to a roped off section without interfering crowds.

“Smile!” The attendant says cheerfully. They float down and aim the camera up at them, getting Voltron in the frame as they both grin.

Their bracelets both pay and act as storage for later printing. Ryou leaves with a bounce in his step, pleased both with the photo and the fact that they ended up right by the yellow lion foot. Quiet doesn’t bother to hide his own amusement, and he seems happy with the picture as well. 

“Have fun on the ride!” The Elysian calls after them, waving a tiny blue paw. “You both look great!”

Ryou glances back, confused at the comment. None of the attendants thus far have said anything similar. But the promise of the ride awaits, so he shrugs it off as they walk away.

For once, their fast passes don’t mean completely skipping the line.  _ The Voltron Show: The Ride! _ is teeming with people. The standard line goes completely out of the building and further down the street, while their paid option only gets them halfway through the building. Dozens of aliens mill in line, chatting excitedly, and more fill in behind them almost immediately.

It does give them a moment to appreciate the way the waiting rooms are decorated, though. This section is a corny version of a control room, done up in the Castle of Lion’s color scheme. Around them, holo screens display simplified blueprints of the lions, as well as readouts on different enemies that Voltron had supposedly defeated—none of which Ryou recognizes.

“You know any of these?” Ryou asks, nodding to one.

Quiet examines the picture, which shows a metallic bird with a needle-like beak. According to the ‘readout’, the beak can be used to pierce metal like Voltron’s hull. “No, I don’t. It could be from a different universe.”

“Or it’s made up,” Ryou offers. He passes his hand through the screen, making it flicker, before he stops toying with it.

“Also true.”

The line at least moves quickly. They shuffle forward several feet, and then another burst a few minutes later. As they go, Ryou idly watches the other people in line, trying to spot any races he knows. 

While he doesn’t have much luck, Ryou does start to notice something. The types of aliens vary wildly, but their clothing and accessories  _ don’t. _ Many wear merch shirts for the ride themselves, but others have crudely fashioned red swords attached to their hips, and huge, round glasses perched on noses. More than one have lines drawn over horizontally over the middle of their faces.

They’re in costume. As members of their team.

Oh. That’s why the photographer had made that comment. They’d thought the pair of them were dressed up as Shiro.

While Ryou is processing that, a pale purple child with lobster-like ridges down their neck leans over the rope between the standard line and the fast pass line. They also have a scar drawn over the flat space where a nose would be, and they wear a metalic, shiny glove on their right hand.

“You got the hair wrong,” the kid chirps to Quiet.

Quiet doesn’t respond at first, eyes still flicking from ‘robeast’ to ‘robeast’. Finally, he looks down and realizes the comment was aimed at him. “Excuse me?”

The child points to their own temples. “The hair. The white is only in the front, not the sides. And your scar is too thick, too.” They point to their own ‘scar’, which is much thinner. “ _ And _ your arm is wrong. Both of you!”

Quiet’s mouth falls open. “It’s not wrong,” he says, the words pitched up high. He’s surprised enough by the sudden critique that Ryou doesn’t think he meant to say it. His hands twitch, like he’s about to try and cover the ‘incorrect’ color, but he catches himself.

Clearly, this has hit home. Protectiveness flares in Ryou, and he has to control himself to keep from showing his teeth.

Ryou kneels down in front of the kid. He reaches out and holds the metal pole between lengths of rope. It squeaks, clearly proving it’s  _ real _ metal on metal. “Keep to your side of the rope, kid,” he says, quiet and low. 

The child’s eyes go wide. They duck back away and cling to the adult in front of them. When their guardian looks over, Ryou’s expression snaps into a cheery smile and a shrug. They look down at their kid, then sigh and point out one of the screens, distracting them.

When Ryou stands, Quiet arches a brow at him, one hand on his hip. “Was that necessary?”

Ryou sets his jaw again, irritation boiling in him. “Yup. It was.” There will be no unnecessary comparisons to Shiro on their Clone’s Day Off. Especially not ones that imply they’re  _ lacking. _ And if Quiet thinks that’s the only reason, all the better. He won’t appreciate Ryou trying to protect him from a child.

Quiet continues to watch him. “You might want to brace yourself. He’s not the only one he might think we’re in costume. We certainly look the part.” He nods to a group photo of the team, with Shiro dead center.

Shrugging, Ryou focuses his gaze on the decorations. “No one else has to comment. And if they do, we say thanks and move on. There’s no need to be  _ insulting.” _

Quiet arches a brow, but doesn’t argue.

The line moves again, until they move into the next room.

This one involves a character, dressed in blue ‘Altean’ garb. As they speak, the footage cuts to images of Haggar and Zarkon, who look to be in the midst of an evil scheme. Then it shows more footage of the different robeasts from before, and each lion individually fighting one, before forming Voltron.

Clearly, this thing has a plot. But Ryou’s not really sure about the specifics, because each and every actor is the same race as Bii-Boh-Bi, including the narrating ‘Altean’.

Ahead of them, just visible through the doorway, is the loading dock. Five carts come up, each fitting two to four beings. They are each decorated as a different lion, and when the ride starts, they go down five different tracks.

Apparently, there are five possible versions of this ride. Which probably explains part of why this is so popular—it would be extremely fun to re-ride, and you can never be sure which story you’ll get this time.

“So,” Ryou says, nudging Quiet again. “We going for the  _ best _ lion?”

Quiet arches a brow and snorts at him. “I imagine Black is the most popular choice, yes,” he says casually, but his eyes are bright with challenge.

“I said  _ best _ lion, not  _ most stuck up.” _

“I believe you mean the lion with  _ standards.” _

“Oh, I’m sorry, you mean the one that chose Evil Emperor Turtle? Those standards?”

Their easy bickering takes them through the next room, which means they don’t have to spend as much time listening to the narration (“Bi boh bi bi boh! Boh bibi boh! Biiii bi boh bi?”).

As they get closer, Ryou holds his breath. The next set of lion carts comes through, and they’re close but not nearly to the front. Black is out, so depending on how the groups break out...

Black fills, then Red, then Green.

Ryou starts to grin.

Only for them to be shuffled into Blue with another set of two beings.

“So close!” Ryou sighs, as they settle into the second row.

“It might be for the best,” Quiet says. “At least, best for me.”

Ryou pouts as the bar is pulled down in front of them. Then, with a quick signal from the attendant, the cars jerk forward, and they break away from the rest.

From the section of the park, Ryou had expected this to be another dark ride, or one of the motion simulations. They’d go through the little story, get a little jerked around, and be dumped out into the gift shop.

He did not expect to suddenly find himself brought to the top of an indoor roller coaster. The cart pauses at the top, letting them see down. The tracks go into a long tunnel of screens, and keep  _ going _ down into the dark.

Then, the ‘lion’ shoots forward with a roar.

Ryou lets out a whoop, and hears Quiet laugh out the same. They join the beings in front of them in raising their hands as they dive down. What had been a dark tunnel lights up with the hazy blue of a wormhole.

From there, they’re taken on a whirlwind ride through a holoscreen version of a watery planet. They dive through ocean caves and avoid towering coral reefs, only to be pursued by a shark-like robeast. They’re whipped from side to side and burst in and out of the water as they avoid bites and laser beams alike, only to eventually twist upside down through a tiny opening in a rock formation. They make it through, just barely, but the beast does not.

After, the tracks meet up with the other ‘lions’ to take on the Bi-Boh-Bii versions of Zarkon and Haggar. They whip through space, narrowly swerve to avoid oncoming fighters, and eventually move in smooth formation with the other carts to ‘form Voltron’ and blast the ship apart.

The ride can’t hold a candle to the tension and adrenaline of a real battle against the Galra. But it’s a lot more  _ fun, _ and both of them are laughing and stumbling as they’re ushered out of the cart and down a long, well-lit hallway.

“Worth the embarrassment?” Ryou asks, grinning at Quiet.

Quiet nods. His hair is still windswept from the ride, and his cheeks are flushed from laughing and shouting. “Yes, definitely.”

They step through the end of the hallway, and into a gift shop. It’s  _ packed _ with Voltron merch, including the clothing they’ve been wearing — and far more. Posters, rideos, action figures, masks, costumes, toys. All of it showing  _ The Voltron Show: The Ride! _ logo, the lions, and the faces of their friends.

“Nevermind,” Quiet says. He eyes a life-size cut-out of Shiro, wearing that skin-tight black shirt and flexing his right arm. “Not worth it.”

“That’s  _ amazing,” _ Ryou says. He makes a beeline for the cutout and stands behind it, ducking so he’s hidden. Then he waggles it like a child speaking for a doll. “ _ ‘Hello, Shiro, it is I, yet another clone!’  _ What do you think? Should I bring it with me and claim it’s the third brother?”

Quiet goes still. Then, thankfully, he breaks into laughter. “You absolutely should not.”

“See, that makes me want to do it more.” Ryou gives Shiro the Hero: the Cut-Out a pat on the shoulder, before abandoning it to look around properly. “Come on, we’ve got to get at least some merch.” He waggles his bracelet at Quiet. “When will we get unlimited access again?”

“You’re absolutely free to,” Quiet says.

Well, let him be that way. Ryou’s going to get everyone souvenirs. He makes a beeline for the shelves upon shelves of action figures.

Then he pauses, because not all of them are the five he expects. Shiro, Pidge, Lance, Hunk and “Keith” are by far the most plentiful, and the ones featured in the ride. But it seems that other universes are represented in the merch, at least. There are other versions as well, including humans and beings that Ryou doesn't recognize at all. And some he does.

Blue Paladin Coran has his own shelf of toys, as does Green Paladin Matt. Ryou snags one of each, because he suspects they’ll both get a kick out of it.

But the one that catches his eye is Slav, done up in Green Paladin armor.

“Holy shit,” Ryou says, holding one up. He moves one of the many adjustable arms, beaming. “This is amazing. I need one.”

Quiet picks one up as well, a smile also pulling at the corners of his lips. “Alright, this one I appreciate.”

Grinning like a fiend, he holds up a second. “Think I could paint this to be black armor, then give it to Takashi? ‘Oh, of course he’d be the Black Paladin! You two have so much in common!’”

Quiet doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You’d have to be careful of all those arms, but you could probably pull it off.”

“Awesome.” Ryou goes ahead and gets a basket, because he is  _ not done, _ and throws in his choices. Then he goes through the store. 

There are mittens of the lions that match their slippers, so Ryou throws in one for everyone. For Pidge, he also grabs a poster of her, which reads ‘SCIENCE!’ in the background. Hunk gets a set of oven mitts that look like Red and Green, since ‘Humorous Hunk’ probably wouldn’t be a hit. Lance gets every piece of merch that Ryou can find that calls him ‘Loverboy’, and Allura and Keith both get identical shirts of Allura’s face, proudly declaring her Keith.

For Takashi, he hesitates. He does add one of the cardboard cutouts of Takashi in his normal armor, because the joke is too good to pass up. But he makes a couple passes around the store, thinking about more genuine gifts. He ends up at the action figures again, looking through the multiple versions of him.

Quiet catches up, carrying a few items of his own. Mostly, it looks like he has the same idea, picking out a shirt or poster that each member of the team will enjoy. “Stuck?”

“Kind of.” Ryou looks over the shelves, then gives Quiet a half-smile. “Nothing here is twin themed, huh?”

Quiet tilts his head, thinking about it. “No, there isn’t. But that makes sense.”

“Yeah, probably not a common universal constant, huh?”

Quiet arches his brow. “Well, yes. I believe our Slav’s estimate was less than five percent of universes. But that’s not what I meant.  _ Both _ of us did this, but neither as ourselves. I imagine most clones like that go through the motions as Shiro. Even the very strongly identifying ones.” He nods meaningfully to Ryou.

That is a good point. Ryou relaxes and nods. “Yeah, you’re right.”

In the end, he moves away from those figures and over to the ones of the lions instead. He picks out one of the Black Lion in mid-leap, wings out. Takashi will like it. Then he throws in one of Yellow for himself, with plans to make it fly like his other Voltron toy.

After a lengthy line, they pay for their  _ The Voltron Show: The Ride!  _ souvenirs and make their escape from the crowded gift shop and into the street.

“Lunch next?” Ryou asks. He holds up the several bags of merch he acquired. “Mostly because I could use an excuse to drop these off.”

Quiet snorts but nods. “Alright.” He turns toward the teleportation platform. “Would you like to go back to the Ssothesse restaurant?”

As nice as that sounds, Ryou shakes his head. “Nah. Let’s not go to the same place twice when we have all these choices. You should pick from some place you’ve never been.”

Quiet eyes him like he might argue, but in the end he nods. After a quick stop to drop off their bags, they wander through the restaurant district. They do a quick lap to see (or, more accurately, smell) their options, before Quiet picks one with the heady scent of spiced meats and floral sauces.

Inside is incredibly humid. They’re seated on cushions at a low table by an alien with feathers that look splattered in rainbow paint. Their bodies are long with several sets of legs and arms. After a few questions of the server, Quiet orders what is essentially a sampler platter. They’re encouraged to eat with their hands. That’s fun until Ryou realizes the food is so soaked in sauces that it drips dark and sticky down their hands and arms.

Quiet, at least, seems to enjoy the options. He wraps the meat in different kinds of leaves, which Ryou copies when he hears the satisfying crunch it makes. The taste does nothing, but the fresh vegetation, chewy meats and thick sauces are at least an interesting combination to eat.

Once Ryou’s had his fill, he pushes his portions over to Quiet and uses the provided damp towels to clean himself off. He takes care to get at each of the joints on his right hand, because getting it out later will be hell.

“Thank you,” Quiet says softly.

Ryou looks over, pausing mid-wipe. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t tend to eat more than I need to quiet my stomach.”

“No, not that.” Quiet wraps another piece of meat carefully, folding the edges in an attempt to keep the sauce from dripping. He’s only had mixed success so far. “For pushing to see more of the park. I would have spent the day in the rooms and barely even looked at the pamphlet. This was better.”

Ryou softens, even as he shrugs one shoulder. “Well, it’s still my fault we’re here, you know? I dragged you away from home and caused you problems. I’m glad you weren’t miserable while you were here.”

“You were doing your job,” Quiet says. “It’s unfortunate it played out the way it did, but it could have been worse. We could have been kidnapped by alien soldiers who want to take apart the lions.”

Ryou chuckles and puts down his napkin. “Nah, lightning never strikes the same place twice. It’d be something way weirder next time.” He looks over Quiet, then offers his own smile. “Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve been good about everything, and pretty game to play around with me. I know I’m... well, I’m annoying as hell a lot of the time. But you’ve been a great sport.”

Quick cracks another smile back. “You can be. But I think I understand why better now.”

“You too.” Ryou gets Quiet more for sure. But mostly, he’s glad to have a second chance to present himself. The first time was under bad circumstances, and he’d reacted poorly to Quiet’s defense mechanisms. 

As Quiet finishes up, Ryou rests his chin on his palm. “What’s next? We could try and hit a couple of the rides we liked again before they call us. Or stick by the hotel instead. Want to go through the gardens?”

Quiet wipes off his own hands and nods. “I think that would be nice. If nothing else, I’d like to spend some time moving around and not in line or on the couch.”

Before they can get that far, Ryou’s bracelet buzzes. He pauses, startled by the sensation, and looks over to see Quiet’s doing the same thing.

“Looks like you’ll be getting your walk back home,” Ryou says, nodding to his wrist.

Quiet frowns at it and nods. “Looks so.” His tone is odd, even careful, and his gaze is averted so Ryou can’t read it. 

They make their way to the hotel lobby, where Yulvire floats, along with another of their species. This one has very short cut fur, nearly buzzed down, and wears a coat and button down rather than the little suits the staff wear.

“Hello, hello!” Yulvire greets, that same cheery tone as ever. “Have you had a good morning?”

“We have, thank you,” Quiet replies. “I hope you have as well. We assumed from the buzzing there was news?”

The other Elysian nods, adjusting a pair of tiny glasses perched on the tip of their snout. “We believe we’re ready to test a solution to your issue. We apologize for the delay, but we seem to have isolated the original glitch. Undoing it shouldn’t take long.”

Ryou flashes a wide smile. “Great! Should we head up and get ready, then?”

Yulvire pauses and glances at their companion before shaking their furry head. “You could if you like, but this test is to make sure our solution will work. After, you’ll have time to collect your things, as well as return to get your requested items.”

Quiet nods agreeably. “What do we need to do to test?”

The second alien floats over to the still empty desk and taps on one of the pads. Another orb of light appears, floating right in front of Quiet and Ryou. “This should create a similar portal to the one that brought you here, but return you to the lobby after. Once that happens, we’ll be able to see if it affected the bond.”

Ryou eyes the light warily, remembering how uncomfortable the first trip had been. “Should it hurt?”

“No, no!” Yulvire holds up both paws and shakes their head wildly. Then he glances back at the other, as if for confirmation, and gets a shake of their head. “Neither Tajaffhe nor I would put you through any harm, especially not for a test.”

Well, that tracks. Hurting people wouldn’t do these beings much good. Biting the inside of his cheek, Ryou nods. “Ready?” He asks Quiet.

Nodding back, Quiet steps forward, Ryou at his side.

They enter the portal.

Like the first trip, white overtakes Ryou’s vision. He has a moment to think that maybe they should have been touching, like the original little egg had said. Instead, he’s once again whipped into the white void, spinning wildly in place. Vertigo hits as his surroundings refuse to change in the way his body feels.

Then—

Ryou’s feet touch the ground, gentle as if he’d merely taken another step forward. Quiet is already in place, eyes squeezed closed and fists tight at his side from their disconcerting little trip.

Slowly, carefully, Ryou takes a step back. Then another.

There’s no tug.

Quiet opens his eyes and starts to see Ryou so far away. Then he takes his own deliberate step back, and smiles at the lack of a pull.

“Whatever you did,” Ryou says slowly, “you’re a  _ genius. _ I don’t feel anything. Quiet?”

“I don’t either,” Quiet agrees. “Thank you both so much.”

“Excellent,” Tajaffhe says. Their height and ears don’t change, but a small smile pulls across their muzzle.

Yulvire outright beams at them. “Wonderful! We’re so glad we could fix that problem, and we’ll be sure to correct that issue for all future guests. If you’d ever like to book another stay, you needn’t fear a repeat of this.”

“Good to know.” Something to keep in mind once the universe isn’t at war. 

Ryou looks at the empty space between himself and Quiet. Joy and an odd sort of disappointment clash in him. He’s happy to get home and to not have to have someone five feet away when he wants to shower or sleep. But this has been nice. He’ll miss Quiet when they go back home.

But if he’s lucky, there’s a solution for that.

“We should head up and get ready,” Quiet says, nodding firmly. “Will it take long to prepare the return trip?”

“Not at all,” Yulvire says. “I’ll wait for you down here. If you’d like to spend the rest of the day, we can schedule your trip whenever you need.”

Ryou glances at Quiet, just in case he’s had a personality transplant and decides to go for it. Then he shakes his head. “Thank you for the offer. It’s been a blast here, but we’re needed at home. And thank you again for your hospitality during all of this.”

Yulvire flaps a paw at them. “It was only right when our technology caused the issue. If you wish to repay us, we merely ask that you spread the word and come back another time.”

Okay, so being extra nice to the pair of Voltron celebrities is a little self-serving, but Ryou can’t exactly fault that. 

Another portal gets them back to their rooms, which have been set to rights in their absence. Most of the shirts get left in a neat pile on the now cleared table, but both of them pack away the worn sets. After, they put on the clothes they were wearing when they arrived, and Ryou hefts up Coran.

Then, they stand together in the cleared out hotel, ready to leave.

“Hope we’re not supposed to tip,” Ryou says, looking around. “They did a great job and all, but we don’t have a lot of liquid cash on us.”

Quiet shakes his head. “Nothing to be done about that.” He hesitates, then offers his hand to shake. “It was good to see you.”

“You too. Next time, I’ll try to call first.” Ryou shifts his bags around to shake. The temptation to pull him into a hug like last time is huge, but he holds back. That’s not Quiet’s jam, and he can respect that.

When he lets go, Quiet stares at him, like Ryou had shocked him. But he says nothing and clears his throat. “Hopefully, if this happens again, it’ll be under equally gentle circumstances.”

“Agreed. Take care of yourself. Shiro too. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That leaves me a lot of leeway.” Quiet smiles back, openly amused.

There’s another long, awkward beat. Ryou swallows against an ache in his chest. It reminds him, absurdly, of when Takashi left for Kerberos. It hadn’t been forever, and he’d been excited to go. But it was still difficult to say goodbye.

They head back down, laden with the day’s purchases. Once they arrive, Yulvire waves to them again. On the desk next to them is a set of containers with holes on the top, clearly Quiet’s samples. There’s also two innocent looking tablets.

Ryou perks hopefully. Maybe his little request came through.

“We’re all set to send you both home,” Yulvire says. “Do you need any assistance with your luggage?” He picks up the tray of samples and holds it out.

Quiet only has to shuffle a little to safely take his prize. “No, I think I’ll be fine. Ryou?” He eyes the bags of goodies and Coran’s huge bulk with a smirk.

“Pfft, I can handle this.” Ryou flaps a hand, but the gesture isn’t nearly as effective when he can’t let go of anything. “And, uh, about what I asked this morning, Yulvire?”

Yulvire smiles back and holds out the tablets, one for each of them. “It was no trouble at all. It just took some tuning to both your universes, and now they should work perfectly.

Quiet takes his while Ryou struggles to get a free hand. “What are these?”

“Tablets,” Ryou says, all studied innocence. “Does your Castle of Lions not have them?” When Quiet stares flatly at him, Ryou laughs. “They have a similar program to the way we sent messages back home when we got here. Except these just talk to each other.” 

Quiet’s brows rise. He looks it over carefully. “It’s for video chats?”

“I guess we could, yeah. But mostly I was asking about text and information files. We could share if either of us learn anything important about Haggar or clones or whatever.” Ryou presses the bottom of his face to Coran, absurdly shy as he continues. “Or we could just write each other if you want.”

Quiet just continues to stare. Then, a small smile appears. “You want to be pen pals?”

“Who better?”

Tucking the tablet against his chest, Quiet nods. “I’d like that. And you’re right, it’s useful.”

Yulvire watches their interplace, practically sparkling. “I’m very glad to have helped,” they say fondly. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“No, we should be good. Thank you again, Yulvire.”

Yulvire just nods, beaming back. “No problem at all. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I—” Ryou groans, then puts down his bags. “Fuck it, I gotta.” He steps up to Quiet and holds his arms out. “Little one. Sorry.”

Quiet chuckles. “I figured this was coming.” He obligingly spreads his arms and allows himself to be squeezed. He gives Ryou a fond pat on the back. “Keep yourself safe. And your team.”

“You too.” Ryou steps back and collects his things. “And I want to know how well interdimensional plants take to your world. That’s cool.”

Quiet smiles, and it’s clear he knows it’s a pretence. Ryou just wants to hear from him and know he’s working on his individual hobbies. “Of course.”

Two balls of light appear, and with one last set of waves, they step through.

After another moment of disorientation, Ryou finds himself back in his lab. The egg sits, perfectly innocent, on his table. If he wasn’t still carrying all his gear, he could have thought it was a strange hallucination.

Carefully, Ryou sets down the tablet on his table. He might tell Pidge and Hunk about it later, but maybe not. He kind of likes it being just his. They have gifts of their own, after all, which he needs to go distribute.

Ryou glances once more around the room, smiling softly. He’s home. Nice as the vacation was, and great as it was to catch up with someone who  _ understood, _ he’s still glad to be back.

Then, he freezes as his eyes fall on his toolkit.

He forgot his damn hammer in another dimension.

“Ah, shit.”


End file.
